The Boy Who Died
by Kwan Li
Summary: AU. Sequel to The Other Boy Who Lived. Ten years after the War of the Dark Tower, magic is known to all, Muggles included. As the world spins closer to a new revolution, Draco Malfoy must find a way to control the ever growing thirst for magical power. Meanwhile, Hermione Granger finds that resurrecting the dead is not without consequence. Can they save the world from itself?
1. Prologue: A Death Undone

"I can't believe you."

The dark haired man, Morth, was walking along the sidewalk, talking animatedly to the woman beside him. She had long brown hair and chocolate eyes, enchanting to anyone she talked to. _Morth is no different_, she thought as she laughed lightly.

"Your accent is so cool!" Morth exclaimed in his southern accent, his youthful exuberance echoing loudly.

"I'm not the one that has an accent. You do!" she responded, her West Midlands accent betraying any truth that she had no accent.

"No. We sound like idiots. You sound so posh, so cultured," Morth mocked as he turned left, down an alley.

She laughed again, pretending to be flattered by his compliments, but in reality, she couldn't wait to be rid of him. It was yet another lackey she had to play along with and hopefully rid herself of in just a couple more minutes. The Americans were a weird folk, fascinated by the English and even more enamored with magic. Whatever fear her Muggle compatriots in United Kingdom had, the Americans reversed it and worshipped them. It wasn't uncommon to see Muggles take a glimpse at you and ask you to do a trick for them. Easily entertained they were, constantly looking for _real_ magicians.

Of course, she was an actual witch, though she didn't attend Hogwarts. Her mother had died while giving birth and her father, fearful of Voldemort's reign at the time, moved to sunny Spain where she attended Badalona College of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was fluent in Spanish and wildly popular with her male compatriots. They fell head over heels for the English girl and her different accent and she used that knowledge to perfect an art for convincing enamored men to do what she wanted.

Morth was no different.

Acting on a letter delivered by a mysterious person, she sought Morth, a native of some state called Alabama, and contacted him to talk about the possibility of join the order they called, the Legion of Light. It was a mix of Muggles and wizards, an increasingly common group the days after the War of the Dark Tower. They were wildly popular in the southern United States for convincing the rural people of the region to believe in magic. There were also reports that powerful wizards had joined their cause and since the Ministry of Magic wasn't used to handling the mixing of wizards and Muggles, they dispatched her to investigate this Legion of Light.

She returned to England after the War of the Dark Tower and the true fall of Voldemort. There was much that needed rebuilding as England was devastated after the savagery Voldemort inflicted upon the lands. Homes needed repair. Factories reformed. Schools repopulated. Most of all, they needed to establish a new set of codes with Muggles since Voldemort decided to blast the previous one into tiny ribbons.

"You're going to be so excited! I'm telling' ya. Them be _real_ wizards where I'm takin' ya. You'll get some of those phonies every now and then, but these guys. You should see what they can do!" Morth breathlessly went on as he turned into yet another alley in the small town.

She smiled to herself, counting down the seconds until she had to be rid of him. She could usually handle boys, but they all had the same puppyish eagerness about them. They couldn't wait to show you things, try to impress you before they attempt the inevitable journey down your shirt. _Don't worry Morth. Just a little longer and you'll be right under a Memory Charm and back to your farm_.

In truth, the Ministry didn't know what to do with Muggles. It was easy enough before to just Memory Charm all of them, but Voldemort guaranteed they wouldn't be able to find every single Muggle that saw the Dark Tower. True enough, they could hide and they could create so many charms to hide from the Muggles, but it took so much effort and energy that the Ministry decided to give up trying to remain unseen.

So, the United Muggles and Wizards had been formed. UMW as it was often referred to by those who used short speak in the Ministry. It was a coalition formed to help foster peace and understanding between Muggles and wizards. She remembered when Hermione Granger, the first President of UMW, took her oath to help Muggles and wizards interact in harmony.

It had been so long, almost twelve years ago, that Granger took the oath. Of course, she resigned a year later for personal reasons and vanished off the grid, no small task for a witch as popular as her. Then again, who would want to go searching in the deserts of Africa, where she first resurfaced, or the jungles of the Amazon, where she had last been seen?

_Crazy witch. Though I don't blame her after all she went through_. Everyone knew about the much publicized Golden Trio and death of Voldemort at the Boy-Who-Lived's hands, despite the fact that there were those who believed it was Harry Potter, then boyfriend of Hermione Granger, that ultimately did the deed of killing Voldemort. The joke was that Longbottom became the Boy-Who-Died after his suicide a few years later. She still remembered all the memorials and speeches people gave about Neville Longbottom.

Yet, even his heroism was fading with time as the unrest between Muggles and wizards grew.

Sure, there were people like Morth who loved seeing real wizards and witches and the like. But there were others who were concerned with wizards and their natural powers. She was grateful that she wasn't assigned to divisions in Eastern Europe and the Middle East, two places where there was growing violence between Muggles and wizards.

Instead, she was in America, following a country boy to the supposed headquarters of the Legion of Light. All she needed to do was report their activity and see if they were a potential threat. If they weren't, they would be monitored, but she wouldn't have to return. If they were…

_I hope they don't send me here forever_, she shuddered as they finally came upon a metal doorway. There was a slit near the top and Morth used some special knock. The trap opened and curious brown eyes peered out from the darkness.

"It's Morth. I got a new recruit," he happily pointed to her.

She smiled at the person, hoping it was a man. Women were so much more suspicious. Thankfully, as the locks unchained and the door slid open, she found a man with a large belly grinning at them.

"Howdy, Morth. Who's this young lady you got with you?" He looked at her appraisingly but not as gleefully as Morth did when he first set eyes on her. A quick glance at his hand told her that the big man was married. Still, if he wanted something pretty to look at, she could play the part.

She introduced herself and learned that his name was Randy. Following them inside, she watched the door close behind her and found a reasonably clean room. There were chairs scattered about and a few couches where people lounged, but if she expected some ratty infestation, she was disappointed.

"So, you want to see some true wizards?" Randy asked as he lead them down a hallway.

"I'd love to!" she gushed, batting her eyelashes at the married man.

Randy chuckled, an amused thing as he stopped in front of a doorway. "Honey, you're pretty good but we're not all that dumb."

She was confused. _What did he mean?_ "I'm sorry? Did I do something?"

Randy shook his head and she looked tentatively at Morth, who also looked apologetic. _Had I blown my cover? Did they know I was a witch?_

"Sorry," Morth said in a whisper.

"Sorry for what?"

A blow to the back of her head meant that she would never receive an answer.

* * *

When she came to, she realized that her head was pounding and her hands were bound. Her arms were spread to each side of her, pinned against something wooden behind her. The ache in her arms came from the fact that she was suspended and only the rope around her waist kept them from being dislocated out of her sockets.

She could hear murmurs and whispers, voices in the darkness. Candles were lit all around her as she looked around, trying to gain her bearings. She was on some sort of pedestal, raised high on whatever wooden platform was behind her. _Where's my wand?_ She thought frantically as she tried to twist out of her trappings. It was no use. Every movement set her body on fire and the agony was too much for her to bear.

_Morth_, she suddenly remembered. _He set me up!_

She couldn't quite believe it. Morth, the excited country boy, was supposed to be a mark according to her mysterious letter. How could she have been so stupid to believe the letter? It could have been sent by anyone. Remnants of the Death Eaters that still believed Voldemort was alive. Forces from the Middle East and Eastern Europe looking for a potential Ministry of Magic agent. But most probable of all, someone from the Legion of Light that wanted a witch.

She opened her mouth to speak, her voice scratchy and hoarse, "Help! Is anyone there?"

The murmur died instantly, the silence deafening in its quickness. _There's people here with me_, she realized. If there were people, perhaps there would be someone sympathetic. They couldn't she just leave her hanging up there!

"Morth!" she cried out to the only person she knew, "Help me! What's going on?"

Out of the dim light, a man in robes appeared. He had the hood pulled over his head so she couldn't see his face, but she felt his power instantly.

_A wizard_.

If Morth was no use, then she was left with no other option. "You! Whoever you are! I know you're a wizard. I'm a witch and an International Agent from the Ministry of Magic. I don't know what's happened but we can work this out!"

The man in the robes didn't respond and started murmuring. He pulled out his wand and waved it about, swishing it gently back and forth at something at the base of the platform. Craning her neck and looking down, she found a white sheet covering something…a body most likely. Desperate to escape, she twisted again and cried out as the ropes burned tightly into her wrist. _Magic_, she knew. They were holding here there with magic.

The chanting from the man in the robes grew louder and she wondered how he could speak so loud. It was only after listening intently that she realized _other people_ were chanting. The light seemed brighter and the candles burned intensely as she looked out and saw people kneeling in pews that stretched on for the entire room. They were chanting with him, rocking back and forth.

The chants grew louder, swelling as the wizard below her became more animated with his wand, waving it to and fro like a conductor. She could see men, women, and children in the pews, swaying and chanting with the wizard. The women wailed, crying out words she couldn't understand as they raised their hands to the sky. It was like a choir of voices, powerful and terrifying as the chant turned into screams and shouts.

Suddenly, she felt something pulling at her body. She thought it was some sort of spell and looked down but she wasn't moving. A small tendril of_…something_…was coming out of her chest! It was wispy and smoke like, but it was coming out of her and going into the body below. It was uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt. It was some sort of magic she had never seen before.

"Please! Stop this!" she begged as the chorus of voices became deafening.

As if on command, the voices stopped, the women freezing and the men gripping the edge of the pews in tight anticipation. Exhaling, she slumped as best as she could, still strung up with her arms spread apart. Looking around her, she realized that she was on some sort of wooden cross. Before she could ask herself why, movement at the bottom of the dais distracted her.

The white sheet started to move.

It came off and the person underneath it rose. A gasp came from within the crowd as the wizard tore the sheet off so they could all see him.

"He has risen!" a woman yelled.

Excited chatter and murmur broke out within the mob, but she couldn't see who this person was. Was it someone they knew? Was it a member of their community? She strained her neck, but the man was at too tight of an angle for her to see. She gave up, banging her head against the wood as she did so.

"Chosen One, you have returned," the wizard fell to his knees in a bow.

The apparent Chosen One didn't speak, still sitting on the slab of cement he had previously laid upon. He said a few words to the wizard in robes and she felt herself suddenly falling and landed awkwardly on the ground

_Finally_, she thought. Perhaps they just meant to humiliate her or scare her with these tactics. Whoever they were, she definitely wasn't going to give a positive report about the Legion of Light. _Lunatics they all are_. As she rubbed her wrists to regain circulation, a hand suddenly reached out and grabbed her throat.

His strength was inhuman as he lifted her off the ground. She was choking, trying to break his grasp but it was too tight and he was so _strong_. Small gasps of air escaped from her throat, but she couldn't form any words. _Why are you doing this?_

"She is a sacrifice, Chosen One. A gift to regain your magic," the wizard in robes was still bowing as he said this.

She forced herself to look at him and if she still had the ability to draw breath, she would have gasped. She had seen that face before! She could recognize those dark eyes and the dirty blond hair from all the pictures and portraits that were made of him. One downwards glance and she could spot the stump where his hand used to be before someone severed it. _How could it be? This is impossible? This is…_

She couldn't finish her thought as his grip tightened and he cocked his head. In a low, gravely voice, he said, "You look like _her_."

And then his hand clenched and she remembered no more.

* * *

**A/N: This is the tentative sequel to OBWL. I've tinkered about it for a while but didn't really want to start another WIP while I work on Headmaster Tom Riddle. Still, I liked the concept and wrote the outline and the first few chapters. I can't promise anything in regards to the quickness of updates, but I do have most of this story plotted out.**

**What are your thoughts? Should I continue on with this sequel? Is any of this enticing to you? Reviews and your thoughts about the rest of the potential sequel and your interest would be immensely helpful. The next chapter is Hermione-centric and focuses on where she has been since her disappearance in the epilogue of OBWL.**

**Notes and references:**

**-The first line mirrors the first line of OBWL**

**-This takes place roughly ten years after the War of the Dark Tower (OBWL) and two years after Ron's interview in the epilogue of OBWL**

**-The end scene where he picks her up with one hand tries to choke her mirrors the train scene in Chapter 36: One Way Trip Pt. 2**

**-Most of this will take place in America and other foreign places**


	2. The Phoenix Rises Again

"_I killed him and I wanted to do it…"_

Hermione woke up in a feverish sweat, the words echoing and rattling in her skull. She could still hear it, the words enunciated in a dead voice, devoid of any emotion or heart. Not a day or night went by that she didn't hear the words repeated at some point. Sometimes other people said it and sometimes it was just in her head, but she would always hear it.

The dawn was still dark, the sun refusing to break over the horizon. It kept its head low, shrouding the countryside in darkness. Nothing as black and deathly as the Dark Tower, but still an overhang nonetheless. It had been years since Hermione was in England, but she had returned, unbeknownst to any of her former friends and colleagues. It was best this way.

She swung her legs tiredly out of bed. They were skinny, not to the point of anorexia, but decidedly skinny nonetheless. Constant traveling and two miniscule meals a day would do that to a person. As she stripped her clothes to shower, she caught herself in the mirror. There was a gaunt look to her body, her ribs protruding ever so slightly and her stomach caved in. It was her collarbone that made her look skeletal, outlining her chest and small breasts.

Her hair was the most different. She needed a cover from any wizards or even Muggles. All wizards knew of Hermione Granger and the War of the Dark Tower. Most Muggles knew about Hermione Granger and the War of the Dark Tower and the resulting reveal of the magical world. There wasn't a day that went by where a rerun or study of the magical reveal didn't appear on the telly. Her role in the first presidency of the UMW did nothing to sate their desire to show her on the television. Sometimes, when passing bookstores and libraries, Hermione would even catch a book about the story of her life. Almost everyone know about Hermione Granger.

Very few knew about Jeanne DuPont.

Running a hand through her hair, Hermione was pleased with its shape. She asked the hairdresser to trim it short so that there were no long fringes or tendrils. The part in her hair was the only sign that it was once long, bushy curls. Now, it was decidedly straight, the fringe swept to the side. It was so short that once or twice, a woman would come up to her, thinking her a lesbian. Hermione politely declined their advances. The most stark contrast was the dye she used as her final piece of the puzzle.

Jet black.

Even she hardly recognized herself in the mirror. So much had changed in ten years and you had to look very closely to find Hermione Granger, but she was there. Underneath the years of nightmares and world-hopping, she was still there. There was no way she could ever leave. Her intellect refused to divide into two characters. It wasn't rational. It wasn't intelligent. And Hermione needed to keep her wits about her when traversing abroad. Recognition was only one of the dangers. If a resentful Muggle spotted her as a witch, a confrontation might ensue and not all Muggles were fond of her wizardry.

Still, she needed to keep moving.

She had to find a way.

Showering, Hermione relished the warm water spraying against her skin. It was here that she felt most awake, the water cascading down her skin and settling at her feet. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth, but as she did so, she could hear the voice again.

"_I killed him and I wanted to do it…"_

_It's just a voice_, she thought, _it's long gone now._ After she finished showering, she picked up her phone and ran through her messages. The date read November 4th, 2008. It was a small and normal phone. She couldn't afford to use something traceable and even then, she took precautions to make sure no one could trace the phone back to her. Her conversations needed to be private. It wasn't as if there was anything ever to be gleaned though. Hermione always spoke in code, weary of anyone overhearing her. Today was no different.

_Jeanne,_

_There's a book I want to discuss. Amazing find. Meet me at the usual spot?_

_Raj_

The text was short and simple, just the way Hermione wanted it. Falling off the grid usually meant dealing with the unscrupulous kind and it was a daunting task to find one that broached the better half of trustworthy. Most would lie to you, steal from you, and probably rape you before they killed you, but not Raj. She could trust Raj. He might have been a drug smuggler from India, but he was educated and kind towards her. He was one of the few that understood her need for discretion and her true identity.

She donned a pair of sweats and a hooded sweatshirt. There was no point in trying to keep up appearances. England was crawling with people that would recognize her in an instant, so she took as much precautions as she could. These were the days she wished she could still use her wand. A simple wave of the wand would change her nose or change her cheekbones just a little. It would have been so easy, but she dare not use her wand. Any trace of her magic would undoubtedly lead ten wizards to her. Five of them would try to kill her, two of them would try and write a book for her, two more would want her services in their government, and one would be from Ginny.

Her friend never stopped looking.

Sometimes, a flash of sympathy would come upon her when she thought of Ginny Weasley and her husband, Draco Malfoy. They were an odd couple, there was no doubt about that. Yet, perhaps they were bound by the loss of all their friends. Ginny had been struck hard by losing Harry. She still visited his grave every now and then. It was located in a huge memorial at Hogwarts, a memory of the greatest war the wizarding world had ever known. Sure, there were bigger, in sheer size, wars before the War of the Dark Tower, but none had the everlasting effects. The world was plunged into a time before times; a time when magic was known to all.

The door opened and welcomed the brisk air. It was almost winter, not just yet, and so the cold was not as frigid or as icy. It was a warning to the people that winter was close and long nights and longer darkness would soon come. Hermione was grateful for the darkness. It wasn't easy to hide in a pair of shorts and a shirt, but underneath the hood, she was just another twenty-something, wandering through the crowd. She navigated her way from the hotel that sat adjacent to Hyde Park. Trying not to look up, Hermione walked briskly, but she would have to look up sometimes if there was someone in her way and memories would always come.

_This was where we started our initial attack_, she thought as she walked by a row of hedges. She remembered Harry leaping over it, leading the attack and jumping on the back of a dragon. _Silly boy_, she smiled at the memory. Fear had been her own feeling at the time, but now, twelve years removed, it was an amusing thought. Thinking of Harry always lead to the inevitability that he wasn't there however. It rankled on Hermione's moods as she spotted the monument where the Dark Tower once stood.

_I have to bring him back._

There was a dark tower in the middle, but it was chipped in pieces and purposefully looked like it was on the verge of crumbling. At the base, enlarged by perspective, was a Muggle tank with two people astride it. One was a Muggle soldier, joyfully shooting his rifle with one hand in the air while his other hand held a fist high in triumph. The other was a wizard, his wand on the hand furthest away while his fist was also held to the sky. It was a symbol of their cooperation and Hermione could spot just the smallest resemblance of Theodore Nott in the wizard. They were supposed to be random people. She said that to the sculptor when she commissioned it as one of her first acts as President of the UMW.

She paused at the memorial, basking in its size. _Has it really been twelve years since then?_ To her left, a family paused at the base of the memorial to take a picture. A child, no more than ten, matched the pose of the wizard and she watched as the mother immediately slapped down a twig the child had used in place of a wand. The mother looked around, fearful of anyone seeing, and took another, more sullen, picture.

_They're afraid_, Hermione thought, _and why shouldn't they be?_ No one ever asked what the price of revealing the wizarding world would be. As a Muggleborn, Hermione had the ability to see all the things that would be different. Scores and scores of scientific theories and rationalization were thrown out the window.

Instant teleportation. Expansion of the animal kingdom. Genetic mutation. Theories of relativism. Memory preservation and removal. Quantum physics. New elements. Artificial and prosthetic enhancements. Hovercraft technology. Veritable proof of an afterlife.

That was just the very tip of the iceberg. Hermione remembered the first council of the United Muggles and Wizards. Leagues of famous scientists around the world attended the meeting to voice their opinions on the wizards should share. Imagine the Muggles faces when the wizards balked on sharing it at all.

"Do you imagine what we could do with all of this?" a scientist had cried when a wizard publicly rebuked the scientist for proposing to share all of their wizardry. "_Billions _of lives could have been saved with a wave of a wand!"

It gave Hermione a headache thinking about all of the potential wizards had kept to themselves while Muggles starved and died in droves. But Hermione wasn't so naïve to think that once Muggles got their hands on wizardry that they would serve it all for the good of mankind. They would weaponize it, find ways to sell it, and use it for their own purpose. For that reason, Hermione delayed on giving everything she could to the Muggles. It was a delicate balancing act, trying to foster peace and show cooperation while giving them a slow trickle to study and enhance. She shivered as she thought of the year 2001. In the hands of the wrong people, buildings and towers could be easily destroyed.

She pushed all thoughts of the growing enmity between wizards and Muggles. Once upon a time, she would have worried about it and spent countless days making sure the transition from one world to another went as smoothly as possible. The reveal was cataclysmic, changing the world as she knew it, and at the time, she didn't want some crazy Muggle destroying everything in sight. Still, that didn't stop those men from committing horrible atrocities in 2001.

Turning towards the café she already knew, Hermione paused as she passed by a telly that was propped up in a small bakery. The owner was watching, his back turned towards her, so it allowed Hermione a small reprieve. There were few times when she could sit down and read the newspaper or watch the television for world news. She watched as a black man waved at a crowd and read the headline.

_First African-American President in American History…_

It trailed off into other news and Hermione watched as the baker changed the channel to a football game. Moving on, she found the café and took a seat, ordering a coffee as she pulled the sweatshirt tight around her. Debating on the advantages of sitting inside versus sitting outside, Hermione concluded that sitting outside was for the best. Inside, people could be privy to their conversation in their confinement, but outside, she would be able to see any who wanted to listen. She could feel the wand strapped to her thigh underneath her pants. If there was any trouble, Hermione didn't want to be wandless, but it had been sometime since she had last used it. Five years almost.

_I wonder if I still have any magic?_ In all logic, she probably did, but she didn't dare flex her magical muscles in England. It would be a beacon, attracting the flies of the people. Above all else this day, Hermione needed to be discrete. A decade of work was leading up to this moment and Hermione would be remiss if she was taken in again.

As she looked around for Raj, she spotted _him_. He had his back turned to her, but she could still see the mop of black hair and the lanky body. He was serving a woman her breakfast, laughing at something she idly said. As he turned, she caught the flash of his green eyes and her heart broke_. He will be the one_, she thought. Before she could go any further, a cough from behind caught her attention.

"Jeanne, you grow every time I see you! How many times are you eating a day? Four? Five?"

Raj laughed, his big belly bouncing as he did. Hermione ruefully grinned as she stood up to kiss his cheek. His olive skin was remarkably different from her pale one and he looked healthy and never starved of food, also unlike Hermione. Yet, they were both in the same world, constantly avoiding the authorities and looking for ways to escape.

"I'm on a diet."

Raj snorted, "You should join mine. I reckon you'll finally attract a man that way. Skinny bones and no ass is no way to live."

_I'm only interested in one_. As he sat down, Hermione made sure to look around, trying to see if anyone was paying special attention to them. Raj chuckled as the barista came by to deliver their coffees. "Are you always this suspicious?" he asked.

"I don't like it here. Too many memories. Too many…people," she answered.

"Yes," Raj agreed, "The world is weird these days."

_And the world will grow even weirder_. Hermione looked back and found the dark-haired, green-eyed boy. He was flitting around tables, cleaning plates and glasses. He was a bit younger than she would prefer, but the resemblance was uncanny. Could it be? Could he be the one?

Raj followed her eyesight and frowned when he spotted _him_. "Jeanne, I've heard whispers and rumors. Tales of…dark magic."

"Where'd you hear that?" Hermione wanted to know.

"I know everything," Raj shrugged, "People have their phones and their computers. They have their internet and their mail, but I always know all."

"Next thing you'll be telling me is that you're a wizard."

"I can only dream. What I could do with a wand…" Raj sighed regretfully.

"I've seen what men can do with wands. They're no different, Muggle or wizard. Enough of your whispers. Give me news. You always get the best," Hermione commanded.

Raj sighed again, his big belly heaving but gave the news nonetheless. "The East is as tumultuous as always. They've begun killing wizards on the spot. Sorcerers and the Devil they call them. It's gotten particularly bad in the Middle East. The Americans don't help by being over there. Wizard lovers they call them and I don't disagree. They're a weird folk and they need to leave before the whole place goes to ruins."

"And how are the governments responding?" Hermione had her lips set in a grim line.

Raj shrugged, "How they always do…fire and blood. The wizards are now running to _them_ for protection, afraid of all the regular people. It's nasty and I don't think it's getting any better. Sure, one of your wizards can take on about twenty of us without blinking an eye, but what happens when one of us straps a bomb to our chest and sprints at the wizard? The Devil's men, they call wizards. Not well liked there."

"And of the rest of Asia?"

"Not as bad yet," Raj shook his head, "The wizards stay in hiding, but they are weary. Still, there's always been a hint of mysticism about them. In India, they are worshipping them as the new gods. Shiva and Buddha reborn they say. The _perfect form_. As always, the Chinese are especially suspicious. The land is big enough for wizards to hide, but for how long…hmmm…no one can say for sure."

"Do I dare ask about the West?"

Raj snorted derisively, sipping his coffee as he took his time to speak next. "They embrace them, but they are crafty. They want the wizards' power. Exploitation is the name of that particular game and they're good at it. Oh, sure, they smile and dance when a wizard shows his tricks but when someone in a black suit comes and asks them how to read minds, the show isn't so pretty after that."

"And have they made progress? Are they taking more wizards?" Hermione pressed.

"Oh, you won't hear it! The wizards are on their television shows and make the crowd laugh while others are kept in dungeons and cells so deep in the ground that they'll never see sunlight again. But I know and everyone else knows that there's something bigger going on. The Legion of Light, they always call them. _The Light will show the way_. Bunch of religious nutters if you ask me, but they have powerful wizards. They want a piece of what the Pentagon is hiding."

Hermione shook her head disgustedly. It was what she had feared. Muggles would be eager to absorb the vast swath of knowledge available to them. It was a renaissance, a new age where humans would join together and advance through technology and magic, but others weren't as accepting. The Middle East bothered her but not as much as America. She could only imagine what they were learning from tortured wizards.

Raj kept speaking, "Then there's The Party of Stone in the mountains over there. They _hate_ the wizards. Abominations they call them and they'll hunt down wizards and the like. They might hate the Middle East, but they're no different. Satan's demons, they call wizards. A different name but for the same purpose. There are also rumblings of factions in the northeast around New York and a further one West in California, but my whispers haven't gotten back to me yet."

"Is everyone okay?" Hermione asked but knew Raj wouldn't answer. He valued information, not people. If someone died, Raj would simply move on and find more people to give him whispers.

"For now," Raj stated darkly, "Every day it becomes harder. What happened to just trading goods and evading the good guys? Now, the good guys become the bad guys and the wizards become the smugglers and the smugglers become the lost. Trade is bad these days."

"You mean smuggling is bad these days," Hermione smirked, unable to help herself.

"Smuggling, trading, they're all the same thing," Raj waved his hand impatiently, "I know this, Jeanne. The world does not change easily and all of this magic is tearing it at the seams. From the East, they burn the devil's worshippers, but from the West, they smile at them and steal their power."

"And to the South?"

Raj stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes looking into the distance, "The South is strange. It is strange when the safest place you can go is Africa. They've always believed in magic and are too dumb to think anything else. Yes, you have your warlords who claim to be wizards but they are unorganized and unruly. They don't have access to labs and studies. So, they join the wizards and worship them. The same of South America. Jungles and mountains and trails that go on end. A wizard can hide and a wizard can feel safe. A weird world indeed…"

They both stopped, ruminating on their thoughts. It was a strange world they now lived in, magic seeping through every orifice of their culture. Hermione knew it would be drastic, but it seemed as if the whole world forgot to keep spinning when the Dark Tower rose. Trouble and enmity between wizards and Muggles kept going, but Hermione was only seeking one thing. As if Raj read her mind, he looked at her sideways and continued.

"And I hear you seek to go to South America. Colombia, maybe?"

"Central," Hermione corrected, "But I will be in that general vicinity. Have you prepared what I asked of you?"

Raj looked at her carefully, trying to decide her motives. Even though they were what you could barely consider friends, he was still a businessman and she knew that she had come to him with a strange request. _A casket, smuggled out of England to Panama. Large enough for a body_.

"Jeanne," Raj drew out her name, his accent thickening as he did, "May I ask what you are doing?"

"You may not," Hermione shortly replied with a wry smile, "Since when have you ever?"

"Fake passports, licenses, and identification. All of that I can do, but a casket? Who has died?"

"No one," Hermione answered and she was telling the truth. No one had died…yet.

Raj still gazed upon her steadily, but he must have realized he had arrived at an impasse. Nodding, he said, "It is prepared as you ask. Your flight leaves tomorrow and you have your papers."

For that, Hermione was grateful, but Raj was overstaying his welcome. He was far too curious, a trait that was unlike him. In a world where one went by false names, it was deadly to be too curious. She was making to leave when Raj snatched her wrist. She looked at his beefy hand encircling her thin wrist and her free hand twitched towards her thigh, reaching for her wand.

"Herm-"

"_NO!_" she loudly hissed.

"Jeanne," Raj looked regretful but she couldn't tell anymore, "I know I'm no wizard but this is _dark magic_."

"Don't speak of magic as if you know it, Raj."

* * *

Six months ago, Hermione was in Guatemala teaching orphans how to read. While there, she happened upon a witch doctor, as the locals called her. Hermione knew the woman was no witch doctor. She was just a witch, unschooled and untrained. Still, Hermione sought out the woman. They called her Auguria and that she was one of the _Brujeria_, a group of witch doctors along Latin America. The _Brujeria_ were said to be great healers and conjurers, but Hermione wasn't looking for that. She was more interested in the field of necromancy.

Now, she was a plane to Panama, the casket in the hold of the plane. There was a connecting flight at Washington D.C. and Hermione hoped the flight agencies wouldn't question the casket transferring planes along the way. She was sitting in seat twenty-three, her eyes already closed as the jets of the planes thrummed to life.

"_I killed him and I wanted to do it…_"

The voice changed sometimes, a reptilian hiss added at the end instead of just a muted trail. She shivered involuntarily but luckily, the whine of the engines drowned the voice out this time. Other voices carried to the back of the plane and Hermione opened her eyes to see a pair she had not seen in a long time.

Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley.

They were in first class, rows and rows ahead of her, but she could still spot Ginny's fiery hair poking out from the seat cushion. Malfoy's own platinum blond hair was shorter this time. It was cropped much like hers except some sort of product lifted the fringe. Malfoy leaned over to talk to someone in the other row and she caught a glimpse of the poor side of his face. It was still burnt, irreversible magic marring it forever but the cracks and crevices had smoothed over time.

_At least he's not wearing the mask anymore_, Hermione thought with a snort. They wouldn't be able to see her and the flight manifest would read Jeanne DuPont, but she pulled the hood over her head nonetheless, not wanting to attract their attention. She kept watching, however, making sure they didn't notice her. After two hours and a few bathroom trips, Hermione realized they sincerely didn't know she was on the plane. For that, she let out a sigh of relief. _They would never let me go if they found me_.

The flight over the Atlantic conked them out, but sleep evaded Hermione. Instead, she sat and watched, observing how Ginny's hand would curl over Draco's and how he would tilt his head her way. It was still odd, their relationship, but here was no denying that they had a connection with each other. Malfoy's icy veneer complimented Ginny's fiery presence, but Draco had been marked by fire and it was often said that he shared Ginny's temperament at times.

It also didn't surprise her that Draco and Ginny were flying. Apparition, across oceans, was a fickle thing at best and you were as likely to appear in the middle of the Atlantic than appear on land. Distance was the key and the greater the lengths, the more difficult Apparition would be. A Portkey would have sufficed, but distance was the difference again. It is not easy for a wizard to conjure a Portkey that can cross so many miles, else Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would have simply appeared so many years ago instead of arriving in chariots and ships. Magic was good for many things, but Muggles had almost perfected the art of manufactured transportation.

Hermione did not sleep for the whole trip, her haggard eyes staying awake to make sure Draco and Ginny didn't notice her presence. At long last, the plane landed in the capital and Hermione waited until she was sure Draco, Ginny, and the rest of their entourage left he plane. She could spot the UMW pins on their chests and noticed a few junior council members from her presidency of the organization so long ago. It would not be well if any of them recognized her. Fortunately, none did and she was able to board her connecting flight to Panama without a fuss. In that plane, with no one she recognized, sleep finally befell upon her.

The plane landed with a jolt and Hermione's eyes snapped open. She rubbed them tiredly as the captain announced their landing and grabbed her carry-on. As soon as the door opened, she was treated with the blast of humid air that marked the Central Americas. She had been to many places where the weather was dry and sapped your energy, but none held a torch to Panama and its surrounding neighbors. At times, Hermione wished nothing more than to return to England and its cool, dry air, but there was work to be done.

After triple checking that the casket arrived, Hermione had an usher load it into a van she rented. The Ministry, the Parliament, and the Royal Crown had showered her with money and riches for her role in not only the War of the Dark Tower, but her piece in the creation of the United Muggles and Wizards coalition as well. She remembered the day she had withdrew all of her money, the goblins as discrete as always. After dividing the money into the several important currencies of the globe, she knew that she wouldn't have to lift a finger to try and conjure some money for quite some time. It was with that offered money that she was able to help the impoverished as well as look for a solution to her problem: a way to bring _him_ back.

She drove north, making sure to avoid the major roads lest a drug lord decided it was time to raid her van or some other bandit on the roads wanted the English foreigner to pay a stop at their home. Not only did she have a wand, but a Walther P99 as well. Since she avoided using her wand at all times, Hermione had to find some other form of protection. Traveling without something to deter the criminals would lead to an easy death or capture in the lands she traveled. It took days before she arrived in Guatemala, constantly stopping to refuel in places she deemed safe and navigating her way around customs and borders. Still, she was relieved when she finally spotted the small village.

A small child, crouched over a television set that was attached to a large satellite dish turned when he heard the rumbling of the van. Hermione saw him squint, shielding the sun with a hand and break out into a smile when he realized who was in the van.

"Jeanne!" he cried out as he sprinted towards the van.

Hermione laughed as she killed the engine and stepped out, the boy flying into her arms. His name was Juan Oviedo, an orphan of many orphans that resided in this small village. The building was still there, built on her money and from all of the residents of this village. Water was piped into it, as well as toilets and other things that were so difficult to find in such an isolated place. Hermione checked on it a few times a year to make sure everything was running and so far, the village still seemed safe.

"Jeanne, did you see the football match? I think Barcelona is going to win this year!" Juan chattered excitedly about his favorite sport. Hermione gently loosened his grip and set him down. "And you're still practicing right, Juan?"

Juan nodded, his skinny head bobbing up and down, "I did! And my English is a lot better, too!"

"I can see that! How bout you try an accent for me?"

"Hello Jeanne, fancy a cuppa?" Juan tried as hard as he could to imitate her own connotation but it still held a Spanish lilt to it. Hermione laughed nonetheless, pleased with his effort. It was one of the few times she felt free of the burdens and the nightmares of her time back home. The kids were precious and always so optimistic. She wish she shared it.

"Juan, can you take me to Auguria?" Hermione asked as others noticed her arrival.

"Of course!" Juan led her by the hand, dragging her quickly along. She greeted others along the way. Mavan, a beefy man who did what he could to send any stragglers or people who wished ill along their way. Santana, Juan's older sister, who smiled with her beautiful face when she spotted Hermione. There were others, people and children she hadn't seen in six months that were happy to see her there again.

_But I'm only looking for one person_, she thought, not daring to show her sadness in the face of such bright optimism and cheering. Hermione was there to see Auguria and no one else. The witch was the only one who could help her. Augiria lived in a small hut a noticeable distance away from everyone else. She did not scare the locals as she once did, but they still called her the witch doctor and kept their distance. Even Mavan, a man who Hermione considered very brave, didn't like calling upon her and only did so to make sure she was still alive. Juan was not afraid however. He had seen many things though he was still a child and the witch doctor didn't frighten him.

"She's probably asleep. Do you want me to come in with you?" Juan asked hopefully.

Hermione smiled gently at him but needed him away for this conversation. "It's okay Juan. I'm just going to talk to her for a little bit, but I'll be right back, okay?"

Juan's smiled dropped for a moment and Hermione was sad to see that she disappointed him. _Don't think such things. There is work to be done_. The voice in her head was right and she consoled him for just a little while longer and he eventually left, running barefoot back to the main center of the village. Hermione pushed open the thatched door and was almost overwhelmed by the strange assortment of smells inside the hut.

She found Auguria waiting for her, seated on the floor cross legged with several layers of thin cloth wrapped around her. To Hermione, dressed in shorts and a plain, white shirt, the layers would have been hot, but Auguria didn't seem bothered. She sat in candlelight and looked up to see Hermione enter. Augiria smiled, most of her teeth missing, and motioned for Hermione to join her.

"You have come as I have seen," Augiria said, her voice rattling and whispery.

"I have come because I've returned with the subject in question." Divination still rankled Hermione to this day and she was no less annoyed even though it wasn't Lavender or Parvati that was speaking. She pushed any thoughts of her previous dorm mates out of her head. Every time she would think about something related to Hogwarts, her mind would always turn to Harry.

"Hmmm…and he is the one, you think? Face and body alike?"

"He's close, a year younger than I would like but very close."

"Hermione," Auguria started.

"Jeanne," Hermione quickly corrected her.

Auguria looked at her in the eyes and Hermione met her stare. She would not be intimidated by some witch in the middle of Guatemala. She had faced dark lords and beastly creatures in the past. She would not show fear.

"You may call yourself many names. Jeanne or Hermione, it does not matter. I can see your true self, Broken Girl. I must ask you again. Are you sure you want to do this?"

_More than anything in my life_. "Yes."

"It is the darkest of magic and _very_ unpredictable. I confess I do not know all. I have only learned what I can from other _Brujeria_, but it is the way that souls sometimes don't want to come back. Sometimes, they are tired of this world and want to move on with the other people in the sky above. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"He will come back," Hermione was sure of that, "I'm not finished with him yet."

"It is not you who will decide if he returns to us. I can perform my magics and say the words and call upon the ritual, but it is he who decides and even then, there are…_consequences_. A death undone is not something that should be idly considered. Magic may be known to all now, but even to wizards and the _Brujeria_, there are still things unseen and unknown. You will live a half life. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Hermione was starting to grow impatient though she had conversed just a little with Auguria. Such was the way with the witch doctor. Hermione remembered the first time she encountered Auguria. The witch doctor was just a full of questions last time and went through every length to make sure Hermione wanted to do this. She reigned in her impatience, knowing she was close to bringing _him_ back.

"A half life with him is better than a full life without him," Hermione determinedly answered.

Auguria sighed, "I have asked you three times and three times you have answered yes. It is a good number, three, and I cannot ask you more than that. Did you bring the shell?"

"Yes, the casket is in the van outside. Will you do it tonight?"

"Yes," Auguria murmured, "He shall be reborn tonight, if the magic allows it."

* * *

The night fell quickly, the heat no less smothering. A roasted pig cooked over the fire, a prized meal for the return of the woman who had brought the little village so much. The locals danced and sang for her return, music blasting over the radio she had bought them. In the background, young adults watched the television to see the new President of the States. Hermione laughed and smiled with all of the people, but she was waiting for Auguria to finish the preparations.

It was only a small dose that killed him. It was easy enough to slip into his apartment. Raj had shown her how to pick a lock several times should she ever need to do so and the liquid was tasteless and odorless when she slipped it into a cup of coffee he left when he attended the bathroom. When he collapsed on the floor of his flat, Hermione had stood over him, inspecting him one more time to make sure.

His face was more angular, only by a touch, but he was as close to Harry as she had seen in years. His eyes were the same shade of brilliant green, only flecked with spots of gold. The little gold made it look like his eyes were on fire. He was thin but not skinny, like Harry and his hair was just as black. She had observed him during a previous meeting with Raj at the same café. He worked across from the café, for some sort of restaurant and Hermione made sure to follow him home that day some time ago. If Auguria needed a body for a replacement, then this boy would be the one.

She made sure to never know his name, to make the killing easier.

_It doesn't matter. He will be Harry soon_. Trying not to think of the killing, Hermione took a bite into the crispy skin of the roasted pig and savored the flavor. It was her favorite among all the meals they had cooked for her. The music suddenly hushed and the dancing and singing stopped. They were looking behind Hermione and she already knew what they saw.

Auguria had arrived and Mavan was carrying the body of the green-eyed, black-haired boy. It was wrapped in a thick white sheet and Mavan looked none too happy to be carrying it. Still, it was a favorite Hermione asked of him, and they would not turn her down. She was their savior and anything she asked, they would do.

Santana accompanied her and Juan tried to as well, but Hermione told him that this was for adults. They walked into the jungle, leaving the fire and the singing behind them. Mavan and Santana walked silently, their faces grim under the bright, full moon. In the distance, a wolf howled and Hermione wondered where Remus Lupin was these days. He never returned after being sent as a beggar for help from foreign countries. No one knew of his location as well.

"_Magia negra_," Mavan whispered underneath his breath as he carried the body.

Hermione looked at him, trying to draw a sympathetic face, "_Perdon_, Mavan. It will be over soon."

"_Bueno_. I do not want more of this," Mavan couldn't threaten her but it was the best he could do.

"I will leave soon after today, Mavan," Hermione assured the big man.

He said no more as they came to a clearing in the woods. There was a giant rubble, an artifact left long ago from the Mayans. A stone slab with ferns and leaves on top had been cleared out and set in the middle of the rubble and Mavan laid the body on top of it. He stepped away quickly and kneeled behind Auguria, doing as the old woman instructed. Hermione and Santana followed suit as Auguria lit candles around them.

"Do not speak words and above all else, do nothing. The words I can call upon, but it was be _he _who decides. Jeanne, I must ask of you one more time. _Are you sure you want to do this?_" There was a hesitancy in Auguria and her last sentence definitely held a tone of foreboding.

Hermione thought of what she was trying to do. Necromancy was dark magic, she knew of that from her studies and the Inferi. Many people wanted to bring their loved ones back to life and many had failed. Auguria had told her that it would be best to have Harry's original body, but that was crushed when the Dark Tower collapsed. They would have to do with a substitute, a replacement. It was not Harry's body, but if he was the same person inside, did it matter? _Will I even notice if it's Harry that's speaking but another's body he's in? Is it worth it?_

"Yes," Hermione answered, both to Auguria and herself, "I want to do this."

Auguria turned swiftly around and raised her hands in the air, chanting to the sky. It was a low murmur, words Hermione couldn't decipher. Still, Hermione, Mavan, and Santana knelt behind her, watching the witch doctor perform her magics. Auguria continued to chant, muttering foreign words that weren't any Spanish or dialect native to the country. It was an old tongue, long lost except to the _Brujeria_ and their kind. Auguria held a stone knife in her hand and cut her other palm, the blood freely spilling along the ground and splashing in a basin.

The witch doctor kept chanting, her hands outstretched to the full moon. Hermione could hear a rumbling in the distance and thought it might have been a truck passing the main road, but it was different. Santana was shaking beside her, silent tears falling down her face. She was just as afraid of Auguria as Mavan. Hermione held the younger girl's hand, trying to comfort her. _It's just magic_, she wanted to say, but Auguria said to speak no words. _It won't harm you_.

It was an ancient magic that Auguria was using, long lost to the contemporary wizards of this time. The _Brujeria_ were an old older though and rituals and sacrifices, though mostly condemned at home, were natural to this place. The Mayans and Aztecs had used them both and while they were mistaken as savages, they were just wizards and witches of the past. Auguria kept chanting and the rumbling grew.

She threw her head back, a guttural scream ripping from her throat as she sang at the top of her lungs. A shiver of fright went down Hermione's back. She wasn't as scared or craven as Mavan or Santana, but she could _feel_ the magic pulsating off Auguria. The old woman was shaking, her arms swaying as she screamed and sang into the sky. No doubt the village would have heard her even over the loudness of their songs and radio.

Suddenly, the rumbling stopped and Hermione looked towards the sky.

The heavens seemed to split open and a lightning strike fell from the rainless sky. It was thick, the base as big as a tree trunk, and it roared like a dragon. Hermione thought it would strike them and she swore she could see it move in slow motion. The lightning ripped open the sky, a hand from the powers above, as it struck the stone slab, lighting the ferns and leaves on fire.

"No!" Hermione cried as the body in the white wrap was set aflame.

"_DO NOT SPEAK WORDS!" _Auguria roared back, but this time, it didn't sound like Auguria. It sounded like something else, someone that was controlling her body.

Auguria never stopped decanting, her voice as loud as ever as the fire burned high into the sky. Santana was openly weeping besides Hermione and Mavan was crouched into the ground, his forehead pressed against the dirt, but Hermione watched. She couldn't tear her eyes away.

Then, the body _moved_. It cast the white sheet off and the body swung its legs over, stepping from the fire unburned and untouched. He was as naked as the day he was born, but not a single singe was upon his pale skin. Just as quickly as the fire had started, it fell, extinguishing without a single drop of water. Auguria stopped, falling to her knees as she looked at the naked man in front of her.

He looked around, looking confused, even in the dim light of the moon. He spotted the small crowd in front of him, all of them kneeling. He held his hand out in front disbelievingly, rotating it slowly. He didn't come any closer but squinted, trying to make out their dark forms in the poor light.

_Is it you, Harry? Have you come back to me?_ Hermione couldn't speak, however, her throat caught by the display of lightning and fire that Auguria had beset upon her.

At long last, he spoke, his voice that same merry timber Hermione had almost forgotten. It was sweet and kind, bringing her to tears.

"Hermione?"

"It is done," Auguria whispered, rising to her feet in triumph, her old knees creaking as she did.

"He is the _Phoenix_ reborn, returned by lightning under a rainless sky! He has risen from the land beyond the living, a death undone! The old powers have brought him forth and presented him as the one they have chosen! Dispel of those ashes and return to us, Harry James Potter!"

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter will be Draco-centric and focuses on the new relations between wizards and Muggles and why they are asking him to come to America.**

**I'd like to thank my unofficial sort-of betas Darklooshkin and Afton. Darklooshkin is responsible for many of the ideas concerning the relations between Muggles and wizards and the technical advances and changes they have made when magic is known to all. Afton beta'd OBWL and makes sure I don't suddenly interject time travel again.**

**Notes and references:**

**-Some of you will recognize Jeanne DuPont as the same false name Hermione uses in Headmaster Tom Riddle. Reviewer, Jarno, pointed out that Jean is actually the male name in France so I changed it to Jeanne even though that isn't Hermione's canon middle name**

**-Some of you were a bit confused as to who the character at the end of the prologue was, but read closely and you will find your clue. If not, reference Chapter 36: One Way Trip, Pt. 2 of OBWL to jog your memory**

**-When Raj says the governments respond with fire and blood, that is the motto of House Targaryen from Game of Thrones. **

**-'There is work to be done' is a wordplay of "You have work to do, John," that Walt tells Locke near the end of Season 3.**

**-The voice Hermione keeps hearing should also be obvious**

**-Apologies for butchering any Spanish**

**-For some odd reason, it was UMN instead of UMW last chapter. I fixed both errors.**


	3. A Past Not Forgotten

The light broke over the horizon, sweeping through the ornate bedroom. It could not reach every window of the giant manor, but light filled the spare rooms anyways. Inside the master bedroom, Draco Malfoy had his arm tossed around his wife, spooning her from behind. Sunlight always woke him, seeping through his eyelids and rousing him awake. Ginny Malfoy wriggled in her sleep, trying to worm deeper into the soft bedding. The resulting action pushed delightfully into Draco and he rubbed back, trying to wake her.

It took a minute to retrieve her from her deep slumber but she responded in kind after Draco planted kisses on her shoulder. She rolled around, mouths meeting and limbs entangling. _Always the best way to wake up_, Draco thought as he rolled on top of her, kicking her legs open with his knees. Ginny squealed playfully, biting Draco's shoulder as he slid into her.

He groaned, the tightness enveloping him. _Just kill me now. It would be a sweet, sweet death_. Heavy breathing and occasional moans filled the room as he buried himself deeper into her. Still thrusting, Draco pinned her hands with one of his own above her head, leaning down to suck on her neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging a new angle as she tilted her hip upwards.

Draco's vision blurred and he lifted his head as he continued to push into her. There was a roaring in his ears, blood rushing to his head. _So good_, he thought. The rushing in his ears grew as it started to resemble a train whistling through the wind. The tracks beat underneath him, pulsating as it continued along the rails. There was a voice calling out to him. _Little Malfoy_, the voice said. Where was it coming from?

Then, all he saw was blood and a woman screaming in the background. She was wailing, begging for them to stop and Draco _knew_ the voice. He just couldn't place it, but he had heard that voice thousands of times before. _Who are you?_ As she kept screaming, he realized it was his Mum and she was bound to the table with Bates looming over her. He screamed, the tattoos along Bates' back dancing along his skin. Opening his eyes, Draco looked down and saw his hands wrapped around Ginny's throat.

He saw stars as a punch to the malformed side of his face forced him off the bed.

Tumbling off the bed, he rolled out of her, falling awkwardly on his hip. Ginny gasped as oxygen filled her lungs again and she coughed, the bruises already forming around her throat. Draco scrambled upwards, reaching a hand out to comfort her, but she pushed it away impatiently, stinging him.

"No," she said through coughs and gasps, "Just…give me a second."

And he did, striding towards the window and looking at the cursed sun rising on the horizon. It was ascending slowly above the hedges of Malfoy Manor, mockingly optimistic as it filled the room with light. He was still breathing heavily, but this time, it wasn't from the eroticism of the moment. Draco still heard screaming in the distance, but he couldn't tell if it was himself or his Mum. Looking down at his hands, Draco rotated them, wondering how many times this would happen before it stopped.

Arms wrapped around his naked waist and a soft cheek pressed against the middle of his back. Draco's shoulders slumped as he felt Ginny's hair tickling his deltoids. They didn't speak for a moment, his heart starting to calm down from its previous racing. This was not the first time.

"It's okay," she hushed as if she wasn't the one with hands wrapped around her neck.

Draco blinked, his silver eyes purposefully staring into the blinding sun. "I don't deserve you."

"You don't," Ginny agreed, "but I'm still here."

Draco could scarcely believe it had been five years since their wedding. It was a small affair, attended mostly by Weasleys and other important names. Draco had no one left for him save for his aunt and cousin, Andromeda and Nymphadora Tonks. The rest of his family was dead, but at least they were avenged. He could still remember the surprise on Arthur and Molly's faces when Ginny brought him home for the first time. Pity was always the first expression when they looked upon his grotesque face, but Draco let it wash over him. He had fought through countless Death Eaters, beasts from hell, and Bates.

Pity was the last thing that worried him.

He hadn't known of _it_ at first. When he and Ginny consummated their marriage, it had been lovely and passionate, much like all of their other trysts. The first one came a year into their marriage as he descended into a fit of rage while they had sex. His death grip on her wrists left bruises while he mercilessly pounded into her and it was only after she bit and drew blood that he had the shame to stop.

He almost left her then, afraid of the monster inside.

But she convinced him to stay, to remain with her. Ginny was always very stubborn and above all else, a fixer of things. Perhaps it was her time as the primary healer during the War of the Dark Tower, but she was convinced there was a solution to his…problems. It only came during bouts of intense feelings and unfortunately, he felt the most while he was inside her.

Another time, when he was driven to anger by a former Death Eater, he had punched him over and over again until his knuckles were bleeding and he had wandlessly disarmed two Aurors who tried to pull him off the pulverized Death Eater. It was only by the grace of the Minister of Magic at the time, Kingsley Shacklebolt, that the Death Eater was convicted despite his beating.

Ginny tried to use Occlumency and meditation to calm his thoughts. It worked to an extent and he had less attacks than before, but the darkness still remained in him. He could feel it sometimes, the deadly beast itching to be released, but for Ginny's sake, Draco contained it. He still didn't know why she chose him of all people. Before the war, their families had been sworn enemies and her brothers harbored no love for him, least of all Ron. Yet, she chose him and he knew a partial reason why: she took one look at his marred face and wanted to fix him.

Too bad he couldn't be fixed.

Draco turned around and wrapped her within his arms, kissing the top of her fiery mane as he did. She was small and delicate in his arms, but Draco was not fooled by her appearance. Ginny was all fire and temperament, only cooling down when it was necessary to calm him. On the other hand, he liked to calculate and coldly muse on things before making his decision. In that way, they were a perfect compliment.

"Come on," she disengaged and pulled his hand towards the shower, "We have to get going or else the UMW will start calling us."

Draco looked spitefully at the cell phone he had been given in case Muggles, or wizards, needed to contact him. It wasn't easy, being the President of the United Muggle and Wizards, but when Granger left, it had befallen upon him and Ginny to take up the mantle. He wasn't the best for the job, he always said, not caring for Muggles and their obsession with studying and picking at wizards. It didn't help matters that he was also younger than most of his fellow workers. He took every opportunity to spurn Muggles, try and hold their eager obsession at bay while he tried to find a way to make sure they wouldn't bring the world to ruin. Perhaps that was why Shacklebolt picked him.

Voldemort might have been a manic, but he was right and wrong: Muggles were dangerous once they saw the limitless potential. But they weren't weak. They were far from it.

His hand clenched as he thought of the year 2001 and what he could have done to prevent it. It had been so easy for them, having a wizard Apparate them straight into the two towers of the World Trade Center. They were laden with explosives, committing suicide after an uttered phrase. America responded in kind, bombing and pulverizing the country where the terrorists resided, but Draco knew better.

It was former Death Eaters that had convinced them to do it and provided the Apparition to get them within the World Trade Center. From then on, it was standard procedure to have Anti-Apparition wards surrounding important buildings. It was one of the few times that Muggles wholly accepted wizarding interference for their own protection.

_Too few times_, Draco thought, _they always want more_.

"I know that look," Ginny said in warning, "Stop thinking about whatever you're thinking about. Clear your mind."

He tried to and fail, so Draco decided to take the shower and try to clear his mind that way. After pulling on their clothes, they both spun on the spot, Apparating to the UMW headquarters in London. They had to Apparate some distance away as no one was allowed to Apparate within the walls. Draco nodded at the two guards, Muggle and wizard, as they allowed him and Ginny to enter. The dominating letters of UMW were plastered behind the receptionists desk and it took only a minute for his assistant to materialize from a door.

"Mister Malfoy!" called out Faron Chalmers, his personal assistant.

Faron had just graduated Hogwarts, an eager boy of only nineteen, but he was smart and witty. Blond hair, more yellow than Draco's, lay in a perfect sculpture on his head while his blue eyes sparkled mischievously under any light. He was tall and fair, easily making girls blush with a small joke or a wiry smile. Faron was eager, ambitious, and worked tirelessly. It made for a good assistant that would do most of Draco's work.

"Mister Malfoy!" Faron eagerly raced to his side, "Lots of things on the agenda for the day…"

"I don't want to hear that," Draco grumbled, causing Ginny to giggled as she squeezed his hand and left for her office: International Relations.

"Well, you've had calls and Floos from several people -"

Draco interrupted him, "Who are the idiots that still use the Floo? I don't want to stick my head into a fireplace to talk to someone. Tell them to fuck off."

"I will tell them to contact you via Muggle means," Faron scribbled into his giant notebook he always kept on his person, "The Prime Minister of Egypt called. He requests advisors, well, wizard advisors to help contain the ongoing hostilities."

"He wants _more advisors?_ How do we know he wasn't the one that falsely kidnapped the last one and strung him up for all of the crowd to see? Wizards are dying by the droves over there and he wants me to send another envoy to do _what_? No. Tell him to shove a wand up his arse."

"I will tell him to reconsider his options and search for other means," Faron mumbled. He continued, "The Minister of Magic from Italy called upon you to visit him to discuss various magical objects they can hand over to their scientists for testing."

"Why? So they can reverse engineer a broom and have flying cars? You ask him how much money those Italian scientists are paying him and then tell him to take those Galleons and shove it down that fat throat of his and perhaps I'll go to his funeral so I can spit on his grave."

"I'll tell him that the President already has something scheduled for that week…"

They went through a couple more things, Draco barking vile responses to all of them. If he had known there were so many idiots in the world, he would have never accepted Kingsley's prodding to take the job. All of them wanted the same thing: magic. What they failed to realize was that no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't be wizards. So they were content on taking wizards and experimenting on them, trying to find ways that they could use magic.

_They ask for cooperation on hand while creating monstrosities with the other. I've dealt with one Voldemort, I won't have for a Muggle one as well_. Draco angrily jabbed the buttons into the telephone to make a call. When he was finished, he turned to Faron, who had marked off the last person for their morning agenda.

"You know, Mister Malfoy, you should probably start accepting some of their offers to see you. Do you know what they call you?" Faron asked.

_The Fiend_. Not long ago he had been called a different name, one he preferred. But no one would call him Archer. "I know what they call me. I'll see them when I need to but there are more pressing matters at hand. Has Amy returned yet?"

Amy was an International Agent secretly working for the UMW. She had been dispatched to see to the so called Legion of Light almost a week ago and no contact had been made since then. It worried him when one of their agents went missing, but they would usually pop in their heads to say they were safe. Unless they were sent to the Middle East, they would usually return home safely. In America, it was almost guaranteed they would come back with a report, but not Amy.

"Nothing from her. Her contact snooped around to see if anyone saw her, but Richard disappeared as well."

_Two. That makes two that the Legion of Light have taken_. Draco didn't doubt that the faction had taken them. Why else would they disappear without a trace? He had heard rumors about this organization and dispatched an agent to see if they would be any trouble. Early detection was the key to making sure Muggles didn't take advantage of the wizardry. The UMW might have stood for cooperation, but Draco wanted to make sure there wasn't a repeat of 2001. He left the rest to others and only made those deplorably awful appearances with other Ministers and Presidents when forced to.

"There's more," Faron pulled out a letter and handed it to Draco.

He looked over it and saw the seal of the President of the United States. The President was recently elected, that much Draco knew from watching the telly they installed in their room. Ingenious device it was. The letter was a request to fly to the United States and treat with him, but Draco knew better. Taking out his wand, he pointed it at the parchment and said, "_Revelare!"_

The words slowly unfolded, the ink dispelling and reshaping and a new message came forth. This one was more ominous.

_To Draco Malfoy, President of the United Muggle and Wizards_

_Urgent response needed. Possible homeland threat detected._

_Request immediate action._

Draco had no doubt that it was connected to the Legion. He had ignored claims before from the States that the Legion were a legitimate threat. America had its own problems, constant divides within their political ideologies, but for the most part, they loved their wizards. At least, the people did. Draco shuddered to think what the States weren't telling him of the wizards they used for _examination_. Now, it seemed they needed to turn to him for help. There were dangers, for sure, in other areas of the world, but this Legion was starting to make a name for itself.

"Is there anything else we need to do?" Draco hurriedly asked.

"Well, there's an Indian man, Raj I think, that said he needed to talk to you, something concerning…"

"Anything _important_?" Draco impatiently interrupted.

Faron balked as he looked at his notebook but shook his head.

"Pack your things then," Draco ordered, "Find my wife and the rest of my council members and tell her we're flying to America tomorrow morning."

Faron grimaced and Draco asked him why he made that face.

"I hate flying."

* * *

Truth be told, Draco hated flying as well. On a broom, he was comfortable enough, but they were always forced to take these damned planes. It was required of him to believe in the Muggle ingenuity, but Draco didn't like that he had no control of the damn thing. Some pilot was controlling it and it was all Draco could do not to break through the door and wrench the joystick for himself.

Instead, he was intent on sipping a whiskey while they took off, holding Ginny's hand as they did. Oddly enough, Ginny wasn't the least perturbed by the flying monstrosity. She thought that it was just like flying a broom, only the broom had comfortable seats. Of course, she rarely road coach. Among the others flying with them was Faron, nervously gulping copious amounts of alcohol. They were seated in row four and he looked over at their companions.

Riley O'Reilly was their ambassador to the United States and sat next to the blond assistant. Her parents must have found it highly amusing to essentially give their daughter the same first as her last, but Riley found it none too funny. She gave every joke concerning her name a withering glare and Draco often found her a pain in the arse to work with. Constantly badgering him to make appearances to appease their cousins over the sea, Riley was persistent and for that, Draco had assigned her as ambassador to keep her far away from him. She was fair, as most Irish were, and her red hair was almost as fiery as Ginny's.

Artemis was the elder of the bunch. Draco knew he would need someone with far more wisdom and experience dealing with overseas leaders and Artemis must have been four-fifths of a century easily. He didn't look as old as he was though, the wrinkles on his face and the wisps of grey hair on his balding head being the only indicators he was a day over sixty. He had sharp, hazel eyes, so bright that it looked yellow at times. He was once an Unspeakable and for that, he was granted the superfluous recognition of not needing a surname.

Hugh Washington was an American that moved to England after the War of the Dark Tower. He was tall and dark and his official job description was Logistics and Accounting, but Draco relied on him for more than just that. He was as genius as Granger had once been but far more tolerable. Easy going but sharp of mind, Hugh could see through any lies or dissembled facts that Ministers and Presidents would often try to throw at him. He was also the only one who has a Muggle.

The last of their group was his intelligence officer, Keiran Donovan. He was a short lad, only a smidgen taller than Ginny, with beady dark eyes, but more dangerous than Draco thought anyone else in their group knew. Officially, he was UMW security, but his scope reached farther than that. All of their international agents and spies reported to him and Keiran was in charge of the op that sent Amy to the Legion of Light. Draco didn't doubt that he had seen dark things over his forty years of living and valued his no nonsense approach.

"Draco," Riley used his given name as an informality but addressed him properly when in front of others, "You should know that the President is different from the last one. He's a bit more amenable to wizards. He wants to work with us, so don't piss him off so fast."

_We'll see how amenable he is when I talk to him_. "He might say the words and play the smile, but they all want the same thing," he responded.

"I think not," Artemis interjected, his solemn voice always sounding wise, "I think this one truly believes to help us and join with us. To what end, I don't know, but there is a genuineness to him."

"He did graduate from Harvard as a lawyer," Hugh pointed out, "I'm not entirely convinced of his motives either, but you might want to wait a few times before you tell him to fuck off, sir."

"I'll tell him to fuck off when I deem it necessary." Ginny could only shake her head at Draco's statement.

"Keiran, is there any word about finding Amy?" Ginny decided to ask.

"None," came Keiran's short reply.

"And Richard?"

"Even less."

Keiran was naturally taciturn and the flight was no different. He held a row to himself, unnecessarily in Draco's opinion, but he didn't care about it that much. Leaflets of paper were scattered across both trays and Keiran was examining them intently. He didn't like losing agents as much as Draco and was determined to find Amy and Richard.

They exchanged idle chit chat a bit longer before dozing into uncomfortable naps. The flight was long and much less time-efficient than creating a Portkey, but it was difficult to create such a Portkey on short notice. Traveling across seas on a Muggle plane was the most efficient way, in terms of power expense, and it gave Muggles the illusion that Draco was willing to cooperate. _Let them believe that_, Draco thought, _I'm only interested in finding these agents._

At last, they landed, a man in a black suit waiting for them at the terminal. He took them on a detour, bypassing various security to an unmarked, black car. Draco took note that he never spoke unless prompted, only showing the way with his hands and a look. He was a classic yes-man, sunglasses and an earpiece and all. It annoyed Draco, the commonplace secrecy around him. His crew were more or less dressed for a meeting while they acted as if they were being ushered into some underground bunker.

Inside the car, a separate man awaited them and this one Draco knew.

_This is going to be a long trip_, Draco thought as he looked upon the taut face of Xander Boggarts.

To most people, he was an unknown, another face in the crowd. Indeed, he had thin, brown hair and nondescript brown eyes, an every day man that would hardly be recognizable unless you knew him by name. It would surprise people to know that he was behind most of the political machinations of the United States government.

It amused Draco to no end that the man shared the same name of a creature that would probably take his form for many people. More than once, Draco wondered if the man was a wizard himself. There had to be some sort of a magical lineage with how Boggarts always seemed to know what they were thinking.

"President Malfoy," Boggarts curtly nodded. The title was still odd, as he was President of just a small council, but he was addressed that way nonetheless.

"Boggarts." The other man had no title and he preferred it that way. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco spotted Ginny with a slight smile and he met her eyes with a knowing look. _What's he going to transform into today?_

"I'm deeply sorry for summoning you here so quickly." _No you aren't_.

"No apology needed." Draco would play the game. "I'm very interested in meeting the new President."

"Yes, well, he is busy - as you can imagine - so we won't be seeing him today." _Of course we won't._

"As it happens, we weren't that interested in seeing him," Keiran couldn't help but say, his face as blank as Xander. _There's two men that could kill each other with just a look_.

Xander ignored him, "You'll have detail reports waiting for you at our location, but I can brief you now. I'm sure you know of your missing agent." _How could we not know? We communicate to you all of our agents that are coming over_.

"Yes, sir. Has your intel found anything?" Riley pushed the red hair out of her eyes so she could look at Xander with her forest green eyes.

"Nothing," Xander answered, "Agents of our own have gone missing. All from this Legion of Light."

"What more can you tell us about them?" Hugh was always curious.

Xander took a deep breath, looking far more troubled than Draco had ever seen him. _It must be serious_. "It started as a reorganization of a conservative political movement in 2005. There were elements of this movement that had…_questionable_…roots so we tagged them for observation. Within a year, their numbers had swelled at an alarming rate and we learned that they were being led by a group of wizards."

"Any idea who?" Draco asked as the car sped by the countryside.

"Nothing affirmative. Their identities are well-guarded and the group is steadfastly loyal. Their cover is that they are a deeply religious group, southern Baptists and Christians are a majority of their population."

"Cover?" Keiran asked quietly.

"Yes, cover," Xander didn't enjoy being interrupted, "They backed the opposing candidate, funding millions of dollars into his campaign. No doubt that most people believe they are just a religious group, but an agent we embedded was able to tell us that the wizard leaders never convened openly besides sermons."

"And what happened to your agent?" Ginny wanted to know.

"Disappeared. Body never recovered. Same of the two other agents we've sent in. It could be as well that they've converted to the Legion."

"Converted?" Ginny was alarmed, "What do you mean - converted?"

Xander sighed, "As I said, they are deeply religious. Most of them truly believe in the faith and that these wizards are instruments of God. Angels, if you will."

Hugh snorted, shaking his head as he looked down at the carpeted floor of their extended car. Riley scrunched her face in disagreement while Artemis and Keiran simply waited for Xander to continue.

"We've halted on sending more agents and I'm sorry you lost yours." This time, Draco believed him. "But a few days ago, an event occurred. It was so large that even the usually uncooperative commoners of the Legion were talking about it in places we could overhear. They call it…the _resurrection_."

This time, Hugh just laughed aloud. The rest of the group looked at him, wanting to know why he laughed and he stared back at them with a dumbfounded expression on his face. "I forget that most of you don't read Muggle books." It was true. Almost all of them were Pureblood.

"The resurrection, if it is what I think it is, refers to the return of their savior, Jesus Christ. If marks the end of times. Revelations is the book where he returns," Hugh explained in a sardonic tone, "It's more likely that they had some Inferi and they're using that as someone coming back to life."

Hugh was well informed of the magical world, pouring over books night and day. It was once said that he could read four times as fast as the average person and retained all of it due to his eidetic memory.

"It's more complicated than that," Boggarts stressed, "We kept on listening to the people of the Legion and discovered that they truly believed it was Jesus returned. They say he held a great power, the power of angels."

"So this person that's…come back. He's a wizard?" Draco scoffed disbelievingly, the tale becoming more ludicrous as Xander spoke. Yet, Draco knew that Xander was no man who believed in tall tales. He believed in sold intelligence and observation and one look on Xander's face told Draco all he needed to know. _He believes it too_.

"I believe so. It's been enough for some of our leading scientists to defect to the Legion. Sixteen scientists from upper level proprietary design and intelligence have abandoned or resigned their jobs. _All_ of them have joined the Legion."

"So what if some scientists went to the Legion? Maybe some of them just wanted to see if it really is someone coming back to life," Riley shrugged.

Xander fixed her with a stern glare, his brown eyes cold and empty. "My dear girl, all of these scientists were intensely involved in wizarding research. What more, eleven of them were involved in weapons combination and development."

It was Artemis who said what Xander didn't want to.

"They mean to create their own army."

* * *

They were settled in some remote location outside the capital. It was a large townhouse, sprawling in size and filled with men in black suits. They walked around, guns visible but Draco could tell which ones were wizards. To those, he subtly nodded his head at them and they gave just the smallest indication back.

"President Malfoy, a word?" Xander asked, directing him to a small office.

Squeezing Ginny's hand, Draco followed the untitled man into the office and sat down across from him. Draco seated himself comfortably in the chair, waiting for Xander to speak.

"Would you mind?" Xander pointed at the door.

Draco sighed and pulled out his wand. "_Silencio."_

"Apologies," Xander couldn't have been less apologetic, "This calls for some discretion."

"More with the Legion?"

"Of some sorts like that. I'll be straight with you, Malfoy," Xander dropped the title as soon as they were out of earshot from the rest of the group, "Someone's leaking information. No doubt, we have our own moles but that's to be expected. Our group is so large and the Legion so influential that they must have gotten to someone. But your team…they shouldn't have been able to make Amy or Richard."

Draco frowned at the accusation but pieced together the puzzle. What Xander said was logical. Who else could possibly know about Amy or Richard? They were both seasoned agents, high scores in all of the Auror detection and espionage tests. For both of them to go missing would be more than just coincidence.

"A mole in my team?" Draco finally voiced it aloud.

"It must be. I understand this is difficult, but you should keep your cards close. Reveal this to no one," Xander implored.

Draco nodded in understanding, "I'll have to talk it over with Ginny. All of them have been vetted, but it does make sense…"

Xander shifted uncomfortably, a feat for a man as composed as him. "With all due respect, Malfoy, I think you should leave your wife out of this as well."

This did not sit well with Draco. He bristled and glared at the man, not caring for his influence or pedigree. It was one thing to insult him, pity him, belittle him. There were much worse things in the world, but he wouldn't stand for an insult of Ginny's faithfulness.

"I would choose your next words carefully, Boggarts," Draco addressed him silkily, leaning back in his seat.

Xander was unperturbed. "I implore you, Malfoy. It is best to keep things to yourself on this one."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the older man, once again feeling as if he were patronized. _They take advantage of my youth. They think I'm inexperienced_.

"Why have you brought us here? It's not the first time you've had threats. Why the need for us to come?" Draco pivoted, holding the storm of Ginny's trustworthiness at bay.

An imperceptible look passed through Xander's eyes, subtle yet there. It wasn't often so much emotion passed through the other man's eyes, but Draco could see it.

"There are…other things we must confirm first, but we felt that considering your area of expertise…"

"Expertise?"

"Magic. Wizards," Xander said unflinchingly, "I can tell you more in time, but for now, we must retire until tomorrow."

_I don't like this_. Draco didn't like the timing, the situation, the accusation of treachery, the lack of communication. Xander wasn't always the most forthcoming with information, but he was especially cagey today.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" Draco decided to offer a branch.

Xander paused and said, "In due time, Mister President. I must implore you not to tell your wife again."

Draco stood up without a word, dusting down his suit. He turned from Xander without a word and opened the door but paused before exiting. Looking over his shoulder, but not at Xander, Draco began to speak, the grotesque side of his face moving as he did.

"There's a spell we can use. _Legilemens_ its called. It allows us to read someone's mind without impunity. It's a difficult art to master, but I can manage a crude version of it. It's even more difficult to master the art of blocking it, called Occlumency. I doubt you have a way of blocking it. I would warn you again to not test my patience…"

Draco shrugged and turned away from Xander.

"…but should I lose my patience, I also know a spell that can erase memories."

* * *

Dusk turned to night and the rest of the team went to sleep, but Draco was still awake, contemplating the day. There was much to be thought of and Draco never dealt with multiple emotions well. The roots obviously lay in his stunted growth as a teenager, dealing with the death of his parents and the war, but it made it no less difficult to know the origins of his problems.

The juggle of emotions still baffled him, trying to balance calmness with decisiveness. Politeness with authority. Honesty with craftiness. It gave him a headache and he begged, one of the few times he did, to Shacklebolt not to give him this job. He was unfit and he hated playing the politics with people, but Shacklebolt was firm. _I don't want to deal with these people anymore_.

There were all kinds of serpents, from the ones that attacked you straight out to other ones that played coy and then struck with your back turn. They all wanted the same thing: magical power. How was he supposed to deal with all of them yet still _foster cooperation_.

_I blame it all on Granger._

Hands swept over his shoulders and massaged them and Draco groaned in delight. The same hand came up and cupped the burnt side of his face and Draco had to consciously force his hand downwards. Even now, he was uncomfortable with her touching it. Yet, she always did, making sure he knew that she loved him for all of his beastliness.

"Can't sleep?" Ginny asked.

"Too much on my mind," Draco grumbled.

Ginny nodded and sighed, "Are you sure Xander's right about a mole?"

_I'm not sure what he's right about, but it's best to take precautions_. Draco didn't voice this concern aloud and just bobbed his ascent. He had told Ginny about it as soon as he found a private moment.

"I don't like this, Ginny. I don't like this job," Draco confessed for the umpteenth time.

"And yet, the world is still standing. This new President is supposed to like wizards and witches. You must be doing something right," Ginny pointed out.

Draco shook his head, responding in the negative, "Or they're just pulling the wool over my eyes. I just don't know what to…what to _feel_."

Ginny kept massaging his shoulders and made a soothing noise. "Just clear your mind."

He closed his eyes, trying to do so but nothing could be done. He felt jittery and anxious, concerned but unable to do anything about it. At times like these, he caught himself hoping for simpler times when he was only concerned with one thing: Bates.

A knock on their door jolted them both. Everyone should have been asleep by now; it was well past midnight. Ginny pulled her robe tight around her and Draco stood up to lean against the patio frame. _At least they had the decency to give us a good view_. Keiran had assured them that all Anti-Apparition wards and other securities were set for this countryside manor.

Pulling open their door, Ginny stepped aside and Draco could see Faron with a letter in his hand. His handsome face was grave, his eyes flicking to Draco in the back of the room. Whatever he said to Ginny, it was too low for him to hear. Ginny took a step back, gasping and raising a hand to her mouth. Now concerned, Draco stepped into the room, marching over to Faron.

"What is it?" he asked of his assistant.

Faron gulped and said, "Its Arthur and Molly. They've been kidnapped."

He grit his teeth, fists clenching as he dismissed Faron. Ginny turned and sobbed into his chest, pounding against his chest. He consoled her as best as he could, staring into the dark of the night. Emotions that had long been missing came back to the fore as he promised Ginny that they would find her parents.

_Vengeance._

_I can easily do vengeance_.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter is Harry-centric.**

**Notes and references:**

**-Draco was seated in row eight, while Hermione was seated in row twenty-three. All LOST fans should easily spot the reference. Hermione also had a casket, much like Jack.**

**-To sort any confusion: Artemis is old and balding save for a few strands and has hazel, almost yellow eyes. Keiran is short with dark eyes and short, cropped hair. He's in his early 40s. Faron is tall, blond and blue-eyed, young. Hugh is tall and black, around Draco's age. Riley is shorter with red hair and pale skin, younger than Draco but older than Faron. **

**-In case you don't remember, Bates was the big tattooed man that killed Draco's mother and father in OBWL. **

**-Draco will rue missing his appointment with Raj, but fear not, he will be back soon.**


	4. The Cost of Living

_It's a strange thing, dying._

Harry wriggled his hands again, rolling it around and staring at it intently. At first, he thought he moved on to some version of wizarding heaven or afterlife. The last thing he remembered was Neville's red eyes staring into his own and then he was emerging from an improvised pyre to a group of what looked to be four unknowns. As he took a closer look, he could spot Hermione even through her short, black hair.

Needless to say, it was a long night of explanations.

After giving him a long, brown robe to cover his naked body, they set off through the jungle, Hermione holding his hand tightly the whole way through. They didn't speak, not affording the time to do so with their brisk pace. He was still in a daze, numbly following him along with so many questions to ask.

_Where's Neville? What happened? Why are we in a jungle? What about Voldemort? Why the bloody hell am I naked?_

He sensed Hermione didn't want to talk here, however, and kept his mouth shut. Ahead of him were three people: an elderly, a strong middle-aged man, and a teenage girl. None of them turned around to address him, further sending Harry into spirals of confusion.

"Hermione," Harry whispered, "What's going on?"

She froze as he spoke, turning to look at him under the dim light of the full moon. Here, still and unmoving, Harry noticed the aged lines and gauntness of her face. _What happened to her? Why does she look so…old?_

Hermione smiled at him, though, and reached up to brush his cheek. "It's good to hear your voice again, Harry."

If Hermione saw his dumbfounded expression, she must have ignored it because she continued to pull him along through the jungle, trailing behind the other three. It was a winding maze, oppressively hot for Harry's taste. It didn't take long for him to figure out that it would have never been this hot, and more importantly, this humid in any part of England. He wanted to ask where they were but bit that question back as well.

Finally, they emerged at a large clearing with a variety of huts strewn across a patch of stretched land. In the center lay a stone building with blue trimming along the roof. It was perfectly square, without the slanted slopes of the huts, but Hermione was leading him away from it. Instead, she diverted him into a thatched hut off to the side.

His hand still steadfastly attached to hers, Harry followed her into the small hut, finding a medium-sized cot and a small dresser. Overhead, a light was lit, casting them in a yellow splash. Harry was made to sit as Hermione rummaged through the dresser, pulling out what looked like a stethoscope and another object that looked medical. She cursed, flinging through the drawers impatiently. Turning around to face him, Hermione wore a torn expression on her face.

"Stay right here," Hermione commanded in that bossy tone of hers.

"Where else would I go?" Harry shrugged.

She was still hesitant as she vanished through the door of the hut and Harry suspected she had ran back when she returned with a small flashlight clutched in her hand. Retrieving the stethoscope, Hermione placed the buds in her ears and placed the flat, metal bell against his bare chest. It was cold and Harry flinched as she did so, but she ignored it again. The distinct beating of his heart was palpable in the quiet hut and Harry took the time to examine Hermione's features.

As he noted before, she was uncharacteristically thin. Hermione was always fit, but the tightness of her skin had an unhealthy look about it. The dark circles around her eyes were even more evidence to her unhealthiness, but her actual eyes were as bright as ever, darting around as she listened to the beating of his heart. The sharpness in them was still prevalent and Harry found himself staring into those brown pools again.

He shook himself out of the reverie, focusing on examining her. Her hair was drastically different, cut boyishly short and dyed as black as his own. There must have been some time gap from when he was in the tower and the present. Why else would Hermione have her hair so short? The other thing that struck him was the fact that she looked so…_old_.

She lifted the bell off his heart, looking up at him with a relieved smile. "You're back."

"Back from where?"

Frustratingly, Hermione didn't respond again, picking up the other object and sticking it in his ear. He shifted uncomfortably, the pressure stronger in his ear canal, but she was only in there for a few seconds. Relieving herself of the medical instruments, Hermione sat beside him, taking his hand into both of hers again.

"How are you feeling?" she inexplicably asked.

"I would _feel_ a lot better if you told me what was going on," Harry tried to hold back his annoyance. "Hermione, where are we? What happened to the tower? And Neville?"

She stiffened immediately at the sound of the name, her hand involuntarily squeezing his own. A storm of emotions brewed in her eyes, her pupils dilating and a sharp intake of breath heard. Turning away, Hermione lightened her death grip on his hand but still didn't let it go.

"Neville's dead," Hermione softly said.

_Dead? Why would he be dead? Did Voldemort win?_ Confusion once again wrapped up Harry. He tried recollecting himself, walking through step by step as to what happened. They were in the tower, Voldemort bleeding and stunned on the floor when he awoke Neville. And then Neville…

"Harry," Hermione interrupted his thoughts, "What do _you_ think happened?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but his first instinct sounded stupid. Yet, what else could it be? He distinctly remembered the red eyes and the spell Neville used, but it didn't make any sense. It just…_couldn't be_!

"I think…" Harry paused as he wet his lips, feeling ridiculous even as he said it.

"I think I died."

* * *

The next hour went by in a flash, Harry trying as hard as he could to absorb all the information Hermione was throwing at him. She spoke in quiet ones, often haltingly, and her voice seemed to die as she skimmed over a topic or two. He learned how apparently he _did_ die. Everyone thought it was at the hands of Voldemort since that's what Neville parroted when asked, but Hermione learned the truth.

"You said he wanted to kill me?" Harry asked in a hushed tone.

Hermione nodded, a fierceness in her eyes. They were laying down in her cot, all of the blankets thrown off in the suffocating heat. Harry lay on his back while Hermione was thrown across him, her right leg and arm covering his body. The dim, yellow light overhead was still on, illuminating the anger in Hermione's eyes.

"That's what he said to me before I left. I could scarce believe it and I asked him again just to make sure, but he just…he just kept saying it was him."

To this, Harry could only nod in agreement. His last vision before being reawakened in the fire was Neville pointing his wand and uttering the killing curse.

"And he's dead now?"

"Suicide. Killed himself a few years back now. The Boy-Who-Died, they call him now. Maybe he realized what a monster he had become," Hermione offered an explanation but her tone was dark and sarcastic.

Harry kept silent, not needing to pour more oil into the fire. It was obvious that she was still disturbed by Neville's admittance and to be frank, Harry didn't know how to feel about it. All these events seemed surreal: the creation of the UMW, the death of Neville, and his own unlikely resurrection.

"How'd you bring me back, Hermione?" That was the question Harry wanted answered the most.

Hermione shrugged indifferently and buried her head into the nook of his shoulder. Mumbling, she said, "We can talk about that tomorrow with Auguria. She knows more about it than I do."

While Harry enjoyed the warmth of her body and the dampness of her breath against his bare skin, that answer simply didn't suffice. He had never known _anyone_ to come back from the dead or else he would have brought his parents back immediately. Harry even remembered a time when Dumbledore told him that you couldn't bring anyone back. _It's impossible_.

Yet, here he was, laying with Hermione in the year 2008. England had been rebuilt, new leaders chosen, and Draco, of all people, was President of the United Muggles and Wizards coalition. Magic was known to everyone and Hermione disappeared from England for nigh a decade now. Harry wanted to ask what she did during that time. He wanted to know everything about this new world that was completely foreign to him, but Hermione was soon asleep next to him, exhausted by the day's events.

He drifted off into restless nightmares, Voldemort and Neville plaguing them both, each of his dreams ending with the wail of his mother as she begged for mercy. Harry awoke with a sweat, not knowing if he should attribute it to the heat or the nightmares. Hermione was already gone and sunlight was streaming through the patched holes of the hut. Finding some spare clothes that Hermione apparently dropped off before she left, Harry donned a pair of shorts and an ill-fitting tank top.

Walking outside barefoot, Harry was struck by how hot it was again. Hermione told him last night that they were in Guatemala and if he had any doubts, this heat was disproving it. Nowhere else could it be so hot that he was already parched as he set foot into the dirt. Curious, he walked to the cement building, looking around as he did.

People were already about, all of them dark and tan like the three others in the jungle the previous night. They looked at him curiously, eyes always following him as he took every dusty step. Once or twice he waved but they always averted their eyes when he made contact with them. He couldn't tell whether they were fearful or just shy, so Harry ignored it and continued his walk to the cement building.

Inside, he didn't find Hermione but saw the young teenage girl from the night before. She was kicking a football to an even younger boy and he had to clear his throat to get his attention. Startled, the teenage girl jumped into the air, missing the ball as she did. Twirling around, she stuttered hello as she saw him.

"Hello," Harry tried to be cheerful. "Do you know where the loo is?"

She gave him a confused look, but the boy stepped in to answer, "He means the bathroom."

"Oh sorry," Harry slapped himself in the forehead, "That's what I meant."

She pointed it out, a door towards the back of the small building, and Harry thanked her and the little boy as he went to relieve himself. After finishing his business, Harry washed his hands in a dinky sink that could have used a little cleaning. Washing off his face, Harry looked up and was surprised to see his reflection.

_This isn't me…_

Harry traced a hand over his face. It was similar but he could tell the differences immediately. The jaw was a bit more angular, not as square as it was supposed to be. His cheekbones were a bit more prominent and his skin a little more flush than pale. The color of the eyes was right, but they were rounder and flecked with gold. It wasn't his mother's eyes.

There were other differences: the depth of his nose, the slightly fuller lips, and the part of his hairline. Harry could see how the face would be similar from a distance and it might have also been a distant relative for the similarities, but he knew immediately.

_This isn't my face._

_This isn't my body_.

He looked around for soap to scrub his hands and found a slightly dirty bar lying on the sink. Taking it in his hands, he rubbed vigorously and furiously, trying his best to wash the dirt off his hands, but he was scrubbing too hard. His hands were going red and a cramp was forming, but Harry didn't care.

_This isn't me._

"Harry?" Hermione's voice came through the bathroom door.

He fumbled with the soap, dropping it on the floor. Retrieving it, Harry answered that he would be out in a minute as he continued to look at his reflection. Hermione told him that the tower collapsed after Voldemort died, but that could only mean they didn't retrieve his body on the way out. If so, who was this stranger?

Opening the bathroom door, he found Hermione talking genially to the little boy. He had several questions for her and he wouldn't be denied this time. Not wanting to provoke a confrontation in front of the other two, Harry strode up beside her.

Hermione, noticing his arrival, beckoned him towards the boy. "Harry, this is Juan. Juan, this is Harry."

"Top of the morning to you!" Juan said in an affected accent.

Harry chuckled despite his darker musings. "Hello, Juan. I see Hermione has been teaching you some of our slang."

"I want to go to England one day and play footy with the all the big stars!" Juan exclaimed excitedly.

"Maybe you can come with Hermione and I," Harry offered.

Juan's brown face scrunched up hesitantly. "Who's Hermione?"

Hermione stepped in and said, "A friend of his. You wouldn't know her."

"Well," Juan drew out the word as he looked back and forth between them, "Why wouldn't you take Jeanne? She's from England too!"

"Jeanne, you say?" Harry raised his eyebrows at Hermione. "Maybe I'll have to take her too."

"I'm sure you can end up taking a lot of people, Harry," Hermione's voice was chipper but her eyes were cautioning.

"This is Santana," Hermione pivoted away from Juan and pointed to the teenage girl he talked to earlier.

"Hello Santana," he offered his hand but was surprised to find she didn't take it. She mumbled a hello and ducked her head, making some excuse to take Juan away. Juan protested and Hermione promised to see him later but hey eventually left.

Once they were gone, Harry questioned her. "What was all that about? _Jeanne_?"

"Too many people know Hermione," she answered, "It's best to use a bit of discretion when you're traveling around the world."

"Hmmm…what else do I not know?"

Hermione sighed and pushed a stray bang out of her face. "I figured you would have some answers. Come with me, I'll take you to Auguria."

As they departed for the old woman, Hermione slipped his hand into his own and despite his bevy of questions, he felt relieved when she did so. There was still a gauntness and sadness about her that he didn't quite like, but she was on point and in her element, marching around and accomplishing things. She led him to a hut that stood a bit farther away from the others. There were no children playing in front of it or adults middling about. Hermione didn't even bother to knock on the door but instead, pushed it open. Inside, he found the old woman from last night sitting cross legged, covered in various shawls.

"Ah, good morning, Phoenix," the old woman smiled, showing her missing teeth.

Harry bit his tongue, withholding a sarcastic response. "My name's _Harry_."

"A man can have more than one name," Auguria said, "You were once Captain Potter. You were once a son. You were once Drake. And now you are the Phoenix."

"How'd you know all that?" Harry frowned.

"She fancies herself a Seer," Hermione rolled her eyes, her antipathy towards the art of Divination well known.

"Some people call it a Seer, but I just have visions. It is my skill, one of many amongst the _Brujeria_."

"And who are the _Brujeria?_" Harry wanted to know.

"We are an ancient order, practicing what you may call magic. To us, they are just gifts from the old powers," Auguria explained.

"It's just magic," Hermione countered bluntly.

"Jeanne isn't the most well of companions," Auguria tutted with a smile, "Perhaps your return can do much to lighten her mood."

"If you could tell me _how_ I returned, that would be a great help."

At this request, Auguria's smile fell of her wrinkly face. The clouds seemed to dim the sun overhead so they were shrouded in darkness instead of the effervescent light. Harry and Hermione took seats across from Auguria's stunted table, splaying their legs about them instead of being cross legged like the old witch. The room was heavily perfumed, so much so that it hurt Harry's nostrils, but he wanted answers.

"Many believe that you cannot recall the dead and for that, they are true," Auguria started, "But that does not mean _souls_ can't come back. You see it all around you: ghosts, poltergeists, caught in magic. Still, it is much to ask to bring a person back to life when they have been dead. In your country, they dare not try it for fear of what you call the Inferi or other abominations, but the art of revival is not something unknown to the _Brujeria_. We have performed it in times before times. The village folk call them blood sacrifices and for that, they are right."

"Blood is required, that much I know, but other than that, it is an unpredictable skill. Many of the gifted have tried, in vain, to bring back loved ones, but it is to the _Brujeria's_ understanding that sometimes, people just don't want to come back. There is a balance to this world and reintroducing life when there is death disrupts the magical flow amongst us all."

It sounded like a bunch of gibberish to Harry, souls and flows of magic. But he could see from the authenticity in Auguria's face that the old woman believed what she was saying and who was he to argue? After all, he was sitting before her, alive and well when many believed he had perished within the Dark Tower.

"All our order can do is _try_ and still, it is very rare for someone to return. I told Hermione as much when she asked it of me."

"So you know who she is?" Harry asked.

"I have seen it," Auguria simply replied.

_This is Trelawney all over again_, Harry thought. Another voice in his head replied, _but Trelawney was right._

Thinking back of something she said, Harry asked, "What was the sacrifice then? You said it was called blood sacrifices."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Hermione shift uncomfortably. It could have easily been from the awkward positioning of her legs, but Harry was sure it was related to something he said. Focusing on Auguria, Harry found the old woman placid and tentative, very much unlike her chirpy and mysterious greeting.

"The first order business was your body, or rather, your shell. Seeing as how your body was unavailable to reuse, a replacement was in order. I believe Hermione knows more of this than I do," Auguria said.

Hermione glared at the old witch, no doubt unhappy about being handed the reigns. Harry looked expectantly look at her and at first, she looked guilty. Then, she lifted her chin, brave determination all over her face.

"The closer the replacement resembled you, the more likely it is that you could come back. At least that's what _she_ said," Hermione jerked her head to Auguria. "So I found one."

A pregnant pause filled the hut, the shadows dancing across their faces as the clouds moved thousands of feet overhead. Hermione stared steadfastly into Harry's eyes, unwavering in her proclamation.

"And this person…he just…gave it up? Just decided to stick his oar into the river?" The sarcasm was evident in Harry's voice as he threw the questions at her.

Harry could almost hear Hermione grinding her teeth in frustration, but she responded, "You needed a body, Harry."

"And you just picked some random person off the street," Harry accused.

"More or less," Hermione said with a ghost of a smile.

Harry was shocked to see her casualness about it. Whoever this…_person_…was, it wasn't him.

_This face is not mine._

_This body is not mine._

"So that's the blood sacrifice? You just killed some poor bloke because he looked like me?" Harry tried as hard as he could to remove the ungratefulness out of his voice, but he couldn't help it.

"I'm not the only one who sacrificed others, Harry," Hermione said icily, revealing her trump card.

Seamus' face flashed into Harry's view and he immediately quieted down. Who was he to accuse Hermione of murdering an innocent just to get him back? In some twisted and warped way, there was a small justification for what she did. On the other hand, he had killed Seamus just to reach Voldemort. Was one act worse than the other? Could either be forgivable?

Hermione's jaw was set in a firm line and Harry could practically read her mind, _that's what I thought_. And in her defense, she was right. He was in no position to lecture about who and who could not be sacrificed.

"So that's it? Get someone that looks like a person and you can revive them?" Harry decided to return to interrogating Auguria, leaving Hermione for later.

Auguria shook her head, the tiny strands of her hair whipping around. "No. As I said, it is an unpredictable magic, but you do need to have a body. Once Hermione retrieved the body, much is to be asked of the person who wants to revive the dead."

Auguria fixed her calm gaze on Hermione and to her credit, Hermione didn't squirm. Harry looked back and forth between them, not missing the wordless exchange. _What have you done, Hermione?_

"There are other consequences for her actions, but one is well known among the _Brujeria_. With the magics used to revive you, Phoenix, Hermione has cast herself into a half-life. The fate of both of your lives hang in the balance. Should one of you fall, the other one will as well. You are forever inexorably tied together."

A hush fell over the hut, so silent that all the ambient noise seemed to stop. Harry took a second to process the information until he realized the enormity of what Hermione had done. He turned to her, his mouth gaping, a fury of emotions welling with him: anger, shock confusion, and just the smallest bit of pride.

She smiled weakly at him and said, "Guess we're stuck together."

"How could you?" Harry finally exploded, "Hermione! I can live with myself dying…again…but should I die…"

Harry sputtered as words deserted him. He was an incoherent scramble, staring wildly at Hermione, then Auguria, then Hermione again. His girlfriend, or whatever they were calling themselves, just sat calmly with a resolute expression.

"I guess you can't go wandering off into adventures anymore," she weakly added.

He buried his head in his hands. _What has she done?_ _Leave it to Hermione to do something so drastic. _And then the calmer voice in his head said, _this is Hermione. Do you really think she didn't search for every other available position?_

Raising his head, he looked up at her and said, "My life isn't worth that."

"Your life's worth everything to me, Harry."

"But this…Hermione…" Harry sighed, unable to argue anymore. She reached out and grasped his hand, tightly weaving her fingers through his. _How can I stay mad at her?_ He asked himself. Yet, there was a part of him that couldn't forgive her for being so…so…_desperate._

"There is something else," Auguria paused. Hermione's head spun around at this statement, evidently not expecting it. There was a feeling of dread in Harry's stomach and he wished that the old woman wouldn't continue, but she did, her missing teeth showing as she spoke.

"It takes a sizable risk and sacrifice to bring someone back. I have only seen it twice in my lifetime. The second one was last night. As with the first, not only were they tied together, but the one who requests the resurrection also…loses some portion of their magic."

Hermione's faced turned into a sheet, her clammy sheen turning even whiter if possible. Her hand sought out his, seeking it for reassurance and comforting, but Harry was as shocked as she. To lose one's magic was like losing an arm, only magnified to every limb of the body. It was a part of yourself, just as much as breathing was.

"How much?" Hermione croaked with a dotted tear in her eye. "How much do I lose?"

Auguria shrugged, a sad frown stretched across her lips. "It is not known. A little? Half? Perhaps all?"

"_ALL?"_ They both yelled at the same time, hands squeezing each others so hard that it cut off circulation.

"It is _unpredictable magic_. Dark magic as your friends would call it. Consequences…some you may not see until time," Auguria stressed emphatically. "And yet, there is still more."

"More?" Hermione moaned, "There can't possibly be more."

"I warned you, Hermione. The cost of living is no something taken idly. I asked you three times and thrice you answered yes, so this is the cost you must pay." Harry expected Auguria to hand Hermione yet another punishment, but the old woman turned to him instead, surprising Harry. Auguria sighed in a way that reminded Harry of his deceased headmaster. Dumbledore had the same damning calm about him.

"From the dead, there is also a price. This, I do not know. You will also know it in time, but it may be many things. It might be that you only have a month to live. It might be that you will never be able to produce a child. It could be a host of things, but a price must be withdrawn from you as well, Phoenix," Auguria said gravely.

_I'm not a damn phoenix_, Harry grumbled to himself.

"That…is the cost of living," Auguria finished.

* * *

They left Auguria's hut with heavy hearts, trudging silently to Hermione's denizen. Juan tried to coax them into kicking the ball around with him, but neither of them were up to the task. They retired without another word, retrieving a rice pudding for dinner before they did. Again, they ate silently, neither of them wishing to repeat the price it took to bring him back.

He swallowed the thick rice, grateful for the food. Hermione was just digging at her bowl, not bothering to even fake eating it. Harry frowned, unhappy with her refusal to eat. It couldn't have been a recent habit judging by the shape of her body.

"You should have left me," Harry said bluntly.

Her spoon clattered against the bowl as she dropped it, lifting her head to look at him with unabashed anger. _Here it comes_, Harry thought and he was grateful for it. Angry Hermione he could handle.

"No," she stomped her foot as she said it, "You don't get to be ungrateful. I brought you back. You were _dead_, Harry, and now you're here, eating and breathing. Do you know how many people wish they could do that for someone they loved? Do you how many people have died trying? _NO. _You don't get to say that."

"For what, Hermione?" Harry shot back, "So you could lose your magic? Who knows what the fuck is going to happen to me?"

"Nothing is going to happen to you!" she shrieked.

They were both breathing heavily and neither of them had realized that they stood up. He glared at her, blaming her devotion for him for the trouble they were in. _Why would you do this to yourself, Hermione? Why?_

"Nothing is going to happen to either of us. It's all just made up half-truths to scare us. Trelawney got it right once. That doesn't mean that they're right about everything," Hermione tried to rationally explain it but even she didn't sound she believed.

"Then prove it," Harry ordered. "Show me you still have magic."

Hermione hesitated, her hand automatically flinching towards her wand at dresser. She shook her head, her short black hair rippling as she did. "No. If I do magic, they're going to pick up my signature."

"Who cares? Why are you hiding from the world so much?"

Tears sprung to her eyes, angry tears that fell from her face. Harry wanted to lift his emotional siege and bring her into his arms. He never meant for her to cry. _I just want you to understand, Hermione_.

She didn't answer, instead going to her wand and picking it up. Pointing at the spoon, Hermione softly said, "_Wingardium Leviosa."_

The spoon gently rose into the air, hovering for just a second before Hermione lowered it again. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"You still have it," Harry said in a hushed whisper.

"Of course I do," Hermione said in that know-it-all voice he knew so well from Hogwarts. She handed the wand to him and said, "Your turn."

He gripped the wand, knowing his spells wouldn't be as powerful without his own. Surprisingly, he didn't feel the familiar thrum or the powerful wave that usually swept through him whenever he touched a wand. Perhaps his power was just weakened. Perhaps the power his father gave him had disappeared through his death. That might have been what accounted for the lack of warmth when he touched the wand.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, concern etched into her face as she saw Harry pause.

"Nothing," Harry brushed it off. Pointing the wand at the spoon, Harry swished and flicked and said, "_Wingardium Leviosa_."

Nothing.

Hermione scowled and Harry felt a looming despair in the pit of his stomach. _I just did it wrong. Poor form_.

"Swish and flick, Harry," Hermione corrected in a condescending tone.

Swish and flick. "_Wingardium Leviosa."_

Nothing.

Hermione shook her head disbelievingly, completely denying what was evident. "Harry, it's _Leviosah_, not _Leviosarr!_"

"I know what the damn spell is Hermione," Harry snapped at her, focusing all of his attention on the spoon.

Swallowing the bile of despair rising in his throat, Harry shook his body. He looked at the spoon, imagining it rising into the air and hovering for just a moment. The spell had come to him dozens of times before and it was just a First Year spell. Perhaps it was just rustiness. _I'm just rusty_, he told himself, _I technically haven't used a wand in almost a decade_. Taking a deep breath, Harry tried one more time, ignoring the ball in his throat that made it hard to breath.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Harry exclaimed, hoping the extra emphasis would do the trick.

And thrice more, there was nothing.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter is Arthur-centric**

**Notes and references:**

**-Hermione trying to correct Harry on the proper incantation of **_**Wingardium Leviosa**_** is ripped from the Sorcerer's Stone, only it was Ron then**

**-The title of this chapter is the title of an episode from the third season of Lost. It was centered around m favorite character - Eko**

**-For those asking, the shell is a year younger than Hermione**

**-Harry called himself Drake when he fought Bates in CH. 32+33 of OBWL**

**-There are still more consequences unknown**

**-Reviews are always welcome!**


	5. The Hand of God

When he was younger, Arthur Weasley had to live through the terror of Voldemort's first reign of power. Just a frightful twenty-something then, Arthur did his best to support the Order and protect his wife. He could still remember the long nights and dreadful waiting that accompanied missions, but he would never let Molly go alone. The possibility that she might not return was to much for him to bare.

"What happened?" Arthur groaned, lightly touching his head.

A flash of light was the only thing he remembered as he turned to Molly in the kitchen of the Burrow to tell her some idle tale of a Muggle who thought he was a wizard and leapt off a building with a broom. It was yet another story of Muggles trying to do too much and truth be told, Arthur felt sorry for them. Perhaps that was why he didn't realize he had been _Stupified_.

He was slumped against a wooden wall in a cramped confinement. It was barely bigger than the phone both they would sometimes use to enter the Ministry of Magic. His legs were aching from their awkward position and his back had stiffened up. It was dark, the smell of dried wood prevalent in the cell.

"Help!" he cried out, only to hear his echo.

Taking inventory of the situation, Arthur found nothing on his persons. His wand was taken as well as anything else he could have used to escape. It didn't take him to long to figure out what was happening.

_They've kidnapped me_.

"Molly…" he muttered to himself, "…_MOLLY!_"

Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself as far back as he could against the back wall and kicked out with his legs, trying to push the door open. It didn't budge, only sending shockwaves through his aged joints. Arthur cried out in agony but refused to give up. This time, he rammed his shoulder against he barrier, only to feel pain again as it refused to give way. He stilled, trying to calm himself before he went into a panic over where his wife was.

_They wouldn't kidnap us if they wanted to kill us. She's alive_, he told himself. Yet, the pessimist in him replied, _but for how long?_

Shaking his head, Arthur stared at the door, using one last ditch attempt to open it. Wandless magic was not something easily controlled. Only the most powerful of wizards could use it and no one could ever truly be without a wand. Still, the mages of great could channel their magic for small periods of time and Arthur hoped to Merlin that he would be able to do the same. Just one spell. One spell was all he needed.

Concentrating on the spelling and the enunciation, Arthur imagined the door opening, the locks unfastening and the hinges swinging open. He cupped his hands together so they were facing the door as if he were pushing it outwards. Taking deep, calm breathes, Arthur closed his eyes and said, "_Alohamora._"

The door didn't so much as squeak.

Crestfallen, Arthur slumped into the small bench that was in the wooden jail. He felt so naked and useless without his wand and envied Muggles for their ingenuity. It was only now that he noticed there was a grate to his right. The confinement seemed to be a rectangular box, walls on all side save for a small grate that led to something else in the darkness. He peered through it, using the small bit of light available to him to see there was a similar cell next to him.

"Is anyone there?" Arthur whispered, his face mashed against the grating.

No one responded and there was a bit of disappointment in him. While he would never wish for anyone to be entrapped like he currently was, a little companionship would have served him very well and given him what was most valuable in this situation…information.

Merlin seemed to hear his prayers as the door suddenly opened and a man with a shroud over his head wordlessly entered and took a seat in the bench in the adjacent cell. He entered freely, opening the door with ease without a guard behind him and for that, Arthur was suspicious. Who was this man?

"Hello Arthur." While Arthur didn't know this mystery man, it was clear that the man knew him.

_He must be one of them. My - our - kidnappers_. He jolted himself for forgetting about Molly so soon. That would be his first objective once he was free from this cell: to find Molly. Next, he would see to it that those who dared kidnap them be punished.

"Who are you?" Arthur asked the man in the shadow.

Even in the darkness, Arthur could see the man shrug. "I was a friend of yours once."

"I don't think friends kidnap other friends and hold them prisoners." Arthur's tone was icy. "Where is my wife?"

"I _was_ a friend, Arthur. Now, we shall see what I am to you," the man ignored his question.

"My wife?" Arthur impatiently asked, "Where is she?"

"The better question would be - _how_ is she? Her location doesn't matter because you won't be able to do anything about it, but if you asked me how she was, I could answer that."

Gritting his teeth, Arthur grumbled, "How is she?"

"She's well," the man immediately answered, "Put up a bit of a fight and we had to silence her a few times when she woke up and started screaming, but relatively unharmed."

"You bastard," Arthur spit out, "If you so much as…"

"And do what, Arthur?" the man cut him off and jumped to the sentence ahead. "You have no wand, no weapons, and no way to escape. What do you think you're going to do?"

_He's right_, Arthur thought. Without a wand, he could do nothing, but if he played along and was given the opportunity…

The man in the shadow shifted on the bench and asked, "Do you know why you're here, Arthur?"

Arthur sat back down, thinking of what his sons and daughters would do. Ron would scream bloody murder and avoid all contact with them. Ginny would plot how to escape while simultaneously explaining to her captors how many ways they would die. He hedged his bets and sat down with crossed arms, not answering this mystery man.

"You're here because you have a…unique set of skills. It's funny now that you think about it. Who would have known that your tinkering with Muggle artifacts would suddenly make you useful?"

_Lots of people know I tinker with Muggle things. He could be anyone_. Arthur still didn't respond, using this time to see if he could guess his captor's identity. It had to be someone from the Ministry. Those were people that saw him the most. It could also be Death Eaters, looking to ransom or interrogate him and Molly. Their family had made their fair share of enemies in the War of the Dark Tower, but that was so long ago. Surely, they would have tried something before.

"Silence it is then," the shadow continued, "I know you won't believe me, but it wasn't my idea to bring you here. You see, they need your expertise for what they're planning and they think I'm the best way to convince you without any violence. They could _Imperio_ you, but they need your creative mind and you know how pesky the Imperious Curse is."

It was well known that people under the Imperious Curse tended to perform under their level. How could you be at maximum efficiency when your brain was essentially remotely lobotomized? Arthur still sat in the cramped confinement, waiting for an opening he could exploit. Others might see him as weak or timid, but one didn't survive through two wars by living on inaction.

"I told them you weren't likely to cooperate, but they _really_ need you, Arthur. Truth be told, I don't really know why. They seem to have some problem with the government…how they've turned the wrong way and that it is time for another revolution. I don't know, Arthur. These Americans are fickle," the man sighed again.

"America?" Arthur blurted out before he could stop himself. _Why would they bring me here?_

"Yes. Some state called Georgia."

Arthur opened his mouth but shut it, refusing to give his captive any conversation. Still, his curiosity had been tapped and Arthur was always a naturally inquisitive person. It was this insatiable need to know that led him to tinkering with things such as Muggle cars, which was the purported reason behind this kidnapping.

"Arthur…" The shadow was a bit more impatient this time. "Do you know where Hermione is?"

_Hermione? You went through all this trouble to find Hermione? This is useless. I don't know where she is!_ Yet, Arthur didn't dare say any of this aloud. If he was truly brought here because he knew where Hermione was, his value would be lost if he said he didn't know. Something nagged at the back of his head though. Knowing Hermione's location wasn't a unique skill. Hell, it wasn't even something he knew.

"They told me she retreated into ugly third world countries. Helping the poor and other heroic, unselfish things. That's Hermione…the best of us."

_Us? Who is this person?_

"I need to know where she is, Arthur. If you tell me where she is, I promise to let your wife go. We have no need for her. She's just a bargaining chip." The man was strangely honest and if the premise for their kidnapping was true, then Molly would simply be a hostage to force him to do whatever these Americans wanted.

"Why do you need Hermione?" Arthur hedged his bets and asked the man a middling question. It didn't reveal that he didn't know where Hermione was, but it was vague enough to make it seem like he _might_ know.

"They don't need Hermione…but I do."

At this point, Arthur was convinced that it had to be Death Eaters. No one else would be searching for Hermione that hard. The question concerning him was why? She had been long removed from anything concerning the magical world. Even the remaining Death Eaters were focused on eroding Muggle-Magical relations instead of searching for the forgotten member of the Golden Trio, but they were the only ones who would be this obsessed about finding her. To the rest of the world, she was just a forgotten girl.

Still, it would be dangerous if anyone with malevolent purposes found her. Few people matched the genius of Hermione Granger.

Arthur lapsed into a silence again, not bothering to continue the conversation. If the man wanted to keep talking to himself, then it was well and good for Arthur. The father of seven would just wait until the opportune moment to steal away with a wand. Surely, one of them would have one.

"I remember the first time I saw the Burrow, slumped and looking like it was on the verge of falling over. I loved the place though…all the family, all the commotion," the stranger said in a soft voice.

_He probably went to kidnap us at the Burrow. He knows what it looks like_, Arthur told himself.

"Bill was so cool with his ponytail and earring. Charlie probably got laid every other day. Who doesn't like a man that can tame dragons? Fred and George were always hilarious, playing pranks on Ron and Ginny and watching them get so red that I thought they were going to explode," the stranger continued wistfully.

_These are all commonplace things. Anyone can know this_. Yet, an uncomfortable feeling was settling in Arthur. The stranger was too wistful, too reminiscent. He was too honest about what he was saying.

The shadow man chuckled, "And Ron, he always got angry so quickly. Same thing with Ginny. I guess all of the temper went with those two."

_Everyone knows Ron and Ginny. They're both highly visible magical entities. Anyone can know this_.

"There was this time, in Hogwarts, when they were dueling and Ron kept getting hit over and over by a shoe and a pixie cage and other things just flying at him! He got so red but someone had used a spell to blindfold him so he couldn't even see any of it." The man was laughing in between sentences now, shaking his head in mirth.

_In Hogwarts…._

"You got lucky, Arthur. Do you know that? So many people died, yet all of your children are alive. One…lucky…family…" The laughter died off and the man was sober again, a hardness in his voice.

"And they can stay that way. Most of them. All you have to do is cooperate with us."

Arthur snorted. "You can't touch them."

"No?" the man rhetorically asked, "Do you know Ginny's on this side of the pond right now? She just flew over with that husband of hers. How did you ever let her marry Draco, Arthur?"

_Ginny? In America? But why would she be here?_ His heart beat just a bit quicker and he tried to stay calm, but this man knew _too many_ things. The shadow spoke from personal experience and Arthur knew he couldn't fake all of it unless he was the world's greatest liar. Who was this man?

"Arthur," the man sighed, "These people aren't one for messing about. They're serious about taking America back and while I don't care nearly as much about that, I will use them to get what I want. Now…one last time. Where is Hermione?" He punctuated every word of the last question, making sure that Arthur knew the importance.

Arthur remained silent, brooding over the identity of this mystery man. He didn't dare inch up to look through the grate, preferring to make the man come to him.

_FLASH_.

The light overhead came to life, temporarily blinding Arthur. He shielded his eyes with his arm, adjusting to the different gamma. At last, he was able to recover his vision and looked around at the wooden box where he was enclosed. Curiosity got the best of him once again and he lifted himself to look through the grate so he could see the man under a clear light.

_No…it can't be!_ Arthur's jaw dropped in horror as he traced the lines of the face on the other side. _It can't be true! Merlin, help me, it can't be true!_

"Hello, Arthur," said a smiling Neville Longbottom.

* * *

They dragged him away to another location, throwing a black bag over his head and immobilizing him. Any attempted escape would prove fruitless in that situation, so Arthur kept calm and allowed himself to be taken somewhere else. He already had enough to think about.

It couldn't be true, yet it was. It was the same person, though far paler and still looking on the verge of death. One look down his arm found his stump and Arthur was immediately convinced if he hadn't already been before. The man on the other side of the grate was no other than Neville Longbottom, but every fiber in his body couldn't believe it. That person was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be a hero long gone, but Neville was sitting on the other side, demanding to know Hermione's location.

In truth, Arthur should have figured it out quite quicker. Only one person, other than the deceased Harry, cared that much about Hermione and knew so much about his family. But dead people weren't supposed to come back to life. Dead is dead, as he was always taught, and nothing else could change that. If it was some sort of Potion Master's trick, it would have been the greatest one he had ever seen.

But nothing could change the fact that Neville Longbottom was sitting there, saying hello to him as if he weren't dead for nearly a decade.

They tossed him in a bare room, no windows and just one door that locked behind him. There was no point in trying the door. Like the door in the wooden box, it would probably be magically locked. Failing that, there was no doubt some sort of guard on the other side. Arthur concluded that his best chance was to steal a wand off a wizard when they least suspected it.

_Most likely when they come to torture me_, Arthur thought grimly. He was no idiot. It would only be a matter of time.

But no one came for a while.

A whole day passed and Arthur's stomach grumbled from the lack of food and he fell into a restless sleep. Waking up, he saw a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon with a cup of orange juice beside it. Too hungry to question why he would get such a good meal, Arthur gobbled it up with his hands, feasting on the breakfast so quickly that it was gone in less than five minutes.

Afterwards, he sat in the corner of the room again, watching the door and waiting for them to cook. They would not leave him there to die. Not just yet. They came in time, the door opening to reveal three men in long, white coats. Arthur recognized them as lab coats and paid them no mind. It was the muscled man that followed them in that grabbed his attention. Unfortunately, the man had a gun, a big one by the looks of it, holstered around his body on a strap.

_Who are these people?_ Arthur didn't understand why Neville would be with three scientist and a man that carried a gun instead of a wand. Arthur had no chance of taking him down.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley." It was the man in the middle who spoke. He had white hair and blue, almost purple, eyes. Half-rimmed glasses sat on his nose as he peered down at the crouched form of Arthur Weasley.

"I'm Doctor Bargos and these are my colleges, Doctor Winters." Winters was the man on the left, tall and hard with a dusting of red hair on his head. "And Doctor Vank." Vank was an Indian man, short and squat with black ringlets falling all around his head.

"Doctors? Are you the medical ones or the science ones?" Arthur had to ask since he knew just the bare minimum of Muggle Doctors. They had Healers and Mediwizard or Mediwitches.

"The science ones," Doctor Winters answered in an icy tone that took after his surname.

Arthur ignored the cold tone and jabbed his chin at the muscle man with the gun. "And he? Is he necessary?"

Bargos smiled sympathetically at him, peering over his half-rimmed glasses. "I'm afraid that without magic, we aren't that capable of protecting ourselves against a wizard. He is just here as a precaution."

_He's here to make sure you don't escape_. The doctor might have minced his words, but the meaning was clear. Arthur reverted to his original question to Neville. "Where is my wife?"

Bargos' purple eyes widened in alarm and he held his hands out pleadingly. "Oh, she is fine! Well taken care of and not harmed at all. I assure you, Mister Weasley, we don't want to harm her."

_But we will if we have to_. Again, the implication was there even if the doctor's apology was genuine. Winters didn't seem to care as much about Molly's welfare while the Indian doctor, Vank, looked at him with unabashed curiosity. Clearing his throat, Bargos stepped forward and opened a folder that was in his hand.

"I was wondering, Arthur. May I call you Arthur?"

"Yes," Arthur allowed him.

"Yes, well, I was wondering if you could tell us how brooms work? We've seen your work with that Ford Angelina you kept in your shed and we would be…quite interested to see how you did that."

"You were in my shed?" Arthur growled.

Bargos shrugged apologetically, "We are _scientists_, Arthur. It would be a shame not to see such great work."

"Cut the shit, Bargos," Winters stepped forward, tall and imposing, "We saw that you reverse engineered the broomstick so that the piping you used to levitate the brooms is incorporated inside the car, but what do you use to create the capacitor? We've tried to recreate what you did with the Angelina, but it doesn't matter if we use the same magical material for the broomsticks, it doesn't levitate."

Arthur chuckled, finding it amusing that these Muggle scientists would overlook such a simple part of the problem. Then again, if you didn't know how to solve the problem in the first place, how would you know it was a problem? _What can it hurt?_ Arthur shrugged and explained the process.

"You first need to think of a broom," Arthur explained, "How is it powered? Obviously, the magical properties of the material are the most important. That's the capacitor. The key is to cover it with the right sequence. Of course, there are several permutations, things far above my head, but all I needed to make it work was to have several of it to support the car. Then, you need to stick a ward capacitor at the front for direction and then an output nozzle in the back. Simply put, there's a magical rod with a directional ward in the front and an output nozzle in the back. All you have to do is shrink it and put it in the broomstick, and voila, you fly."

Bargos, Winters, and Vank immediately wrote all of this down, examining their notes as Arthur explained how brooms worked. It was quite simple when Arthur figured it out and all that was needed to make the Angelina fly was to replicate the process throughout the car.

"The runes? How do they work?" Vank asked, noticing the obvious.

"They're not my expertise," Arthur shrugged indifferently, "There are things that make some brooms fly faster than others, but all I needed was for the Angelina to fly. It didn't matter at what speed so I didn't alter the runes."

Winters muttered something that suspiciously sounded like, "It couldn't have been so simple as runes."

Arthur smiled at that, enjoying the Muggle's frustration. Bargos and Vank seemed genuine enough but it was clear that Winters did not think much of Arthur. Arthur promised himself that the broom explanation was all he would tell until they told him more of Molly or perhaps the larger situation abreast.

"So you altered the structure of the car so that all the pipes led to the engine, which was the directional ward, and led everything else to the exhaust, which is the output nozzle." Realization dawned to Vank as he excitedly scribbled on his notepad.

_They figured this out way too fast. Damn my stupid mouth. I've just never had anyone to share this information with before…_

"Could you do it on a larger scale?" Bargos asked.

"Bargos!" Winters barked, but Bargos waved him off. The man with the purple eyes came closer, kneeling before Arthur with an excited look on his face.

"Arthur," Bargos said with anticipation, "Would you like to be part of something incredible? Something that would change the world?"

Arthur stared at Bargos' purple eyes, trying to see if he really meant he was saying. He didn't need more than one look. Bargos truly believed in himself.

"I want to see my wife," Arthur quietly requested.

A flicker of disappointment flashed across Bargos' face, but he hid it well for an old man. The smile he gave didn't reach his eyes as Bargos said, "Yes, of course. A husband must see his wife."

Bargos stepped back, adjusting his glasses as he did so and looked back at Winters. Winters subtly shook his head, his jaw set in a hard line as he glared at Bargos. Whatever misunderstanding they had, Bargos didn't seem to care too much as he shrugged again. Arthur took note of the enmity between the two, hoping to exploit it in the future.

"If you'll excuse us," Bargos bowed slightly and left the room, the two other scientists filing behind him and the man with the gun leaving last. It was an odd and sudden departure and Arthur couldn't help but think he had done something wrong. He needed to keep communication going.

But they left him again for a day, the only sign they knew he was there being the tray of food that appeared every morning when he woke. Not yet accustomed to one meal a day, Arthur's stomach constantly grumbled and he wrapped his arms around himself to squeeze his stomach, hopefully lowering the requirements he needed for food everyday. But he had a plan and once he woke in the middle of the night, he did everything he could to stay awake.

The door opened before dawn and normally Arthur would have been asleep in the corner of the room, but he awaited whoever entered and watched them through the dim, morning light. A small figure entered, no more than a child, with a tray and a cup of orange juice in his hands. The child set them down delicately, making sure not to spill and stood straight up. When their eyes met, the child jumped, curiously startled.

"Hello," Arthur said in a scratchy voice, "My name is Arthur."

The child was quiet, eyes wide as he looked at the prisoner. Arthur took that time to examine him and found that he could very well have passed as his own soon. Curly auburn hair looped in curls on his head while a smatter of freckles decorated his nose and cheeks. The freckles painfully reminded him of Ginny and he ached to hold his daughter in his arms and tell her that everything was okay. Yet, he had a sinking feeling that she would be the one telling him the same thing if she ever found him.

_They will find me. I can't give up so early_.

"Thank you for the food," Arthur hoped to keep the boy talking, "Might I know your name?"

The redheaded child kept staring at him, eyes as wide as saucers. Eventually, he peeked behind him and out the door and Arthur had a strong urge to jump to his feet, barrel through the child, and potentially escape. That notion grew even stronger when the boy stuck his head back in, apparently satisfied with the conditions. Before Arthur could even rise to his feet to attempt escape, the boy was already closing the door, but just before it was shut, he leaned his head back in.

"I'm Nicholas."

* * *

The scientists came back. Sometimes it was one, other times it was all three. Each time, they only stayed for about twenty minutes, poking Arthur's head with curious questions. Arthur tried to keep track of the questions in case he was ever rescued, but they were strange and seemed useless. _How does Transfiguration work? What type of things can you transfigure? What else besides a car can you make fly? How do stunning spells work?_

The questions were endless and usually, Arthur didn't respond. He gave them other crumbs instead, intending to appease them but they devoured those information as well. Sometimes, Arthur would just feed them a lie, but it seemed they didn't care if it was true or not. They just wanted to _know_.

That unnerved him.

Every morning, he awoke early, waiting for the boy, Nicholas, to come with his singular meal. It took a few days, but he eventually coaxed the boy out of the shell. There were two guards down the hallway, dousing any idea Arthur had of escaping. A sinister moment caused him to think that he could hold the boy hostage, but he dispelled of it immediately. It was no use to become the monsters that the Death Eaters once were.

However, he did learn other things.

"Bargos, he's a weatherman, my father says," Nicholas informed him with a southern twang in his voice. "And Vank is funny and nice. My father told me that he's a physicist." He struggled with the last word, but Arthur gently corrected him.

"You're very smart," Arthur complimented Nicholas as he ate his toast. "What about Winters?"

Nicholas scrunched his face, the freckles collecting around his nose like little ants. "Ummm…my father says he's a dick. I think that's a whale, but Winters isn't nearly as big as a whale!"

Arthur chuckled, the boy's naiveté amusing him. Nicholas smiled back, a toothy grin that revealed the gap where a baby tooth had just fallen out. Arthur continued to gently pry more information from him.

"They say they need to keep you here because you're a wizard and you might just pop away," Nicholas shrugged as he played with a loose end of his jean shorts, "It's hard to convince them we're nice. But we're nice people! You should meet the Chosen One." Nicholas leaned forward conspiratorially and said with a smile, "He came back to life!"

"I'm sure he did." Arthur forced a smile onto his face but felt anything but happy at that fact.

Arthur shooed Nicholas away before the guards got suspicious. He kept the routine, tracking it as a week and a half before he learned a big chunk of news from Nicholas. It was the morning. Bacon, toast, and eggs as always with a cup of orange juice. Nicholas set it down, expectantly looking at Arthur for more conversation.

"Can you show me some magic?" Nicholas suddenly spouted while Arthur bit into the bacon.

Arthur shook his head apologetically. "I can't do magic without a wand. If you can find me a wand, I can do a trick for you, but it has to be a secret."

Nicholas looked so torn, happy at the prospect of even _maybe_ seeing magic yet hesitant and afraid. At last, he also shook his head, scuffling his feet as he looked at the ground. "I can't….we were told not to give you a wand at all."

Arthur refused to be bitter, expecting that precautions would be taken to ensure his imprisonment. He smiled at Nicholas, not wanting the boy to feel too down.

"It's okay, Nicholas! I wish I could show you some magic though…"

Nicholas quietly stomped his foot like impatient and nervous children usually did. He shook his head, the red ringlets falling around his face. Suddenly, his head snapped up and he looked at Arthur intently.

"Are you a demon?" he asked.

Arthur laughed and told him, "I'm not a demon. Why would you think that?"

"Well," Nicholas hesitated for a moment but plowed onwards, "You probably already know this but all wizards are angels or demons. I don't think you're a demon. Demons are bad and evil, but you're very nice. But why would they keep you here if you're angel? You should be with the Chosen One."

It took a moment for Arthur to register exactly what Nicholas had said. When he finally realized what the boy was trying to imply, it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. _That's what they're trying to sell? All wizards are angels and demons and some of us need to be locked up? That's so ridiculous_.

But one look at Nicholas told Arthur all he needed to know. Maybe it was because he was just a boy, but Nicholas truly believed Arthur was an angel of sorts. Arthur didn't know much about Muggle religions, but he had the gist of it. Yet, the scientists obviously knew he was no demon or angel. It was a curious piece of gossip to find out.

"I'm just a wizard, Nicholas. I'm just like you, only a little different."

Nicholas didn't speak for a moment, his head bowed down and Arthur thought he had gone too far. It was a fragile thing to claim that everything a child knew wasn't true. It was akin to the kids learning that the Deathly Hallows weren't real and that it was just a child's tale. Nicholas nodded to himself and leaned forward again. What he whispered next delighted Arthur to no end.

"I'll get your wand."

Arthur tried to contain his excitement the next few days. He reverted to not answering the scientists' questions, preferring to lead them on with wild lies about how magic worked. If Nicholas came through, Arthur didn't want these people to know more than necessary. He tried as hard as he could to maintain his composure. Just one second with a wand and he could Apparate to somewhere. Arthur knew what New York looked like and he might get splinched while trying to attempt such a long distance Apparition, but it was worth a shot.

Nicholas didn't speak to him when he delivered breakfast. Arthur would only look up, nod his head once ever so slowly and watch as Nicholas would nod back, their silent code complete. Later in the day, all three of the scientists came back. If Nicholas hadn't told him, Arthur would have never figured Bargos for a meteorologist. Vank as a physicist made sense, but it was Winters who Arthur feared. Winters' blue eyes were always cold and hard, trying to break through Arthur's defenses.

_Just a few more days and Nicholas will get my wand_.

It seemed a little silly to pin his hopes on an eight-year old boy, but Nicholas was genuine. All Arthur had to do was convince him that he wasn't a demon of all things and he would help. Otherwise, Arthur didn't see any other way to escape. Again, he was struck how useless he was without a wand.

On the fourth day, as the scientists were leaving, another man came in and leaned into Winters to whisper something. Arthur was pretending to talk to Vank, the Indian man excitedly chattering away as Arthur falsely explained the pretense of potions, but he was really listening to this new man and Winters. Winters's eyes widened and he stepped towards Bargos, ignoring Arthur all the while. The small snippet chilled Arthur's bones.

"Picked up a small signature of magic…they think it's her…"

_Her_ could only be one person. It was the one person that Neville wanted to find and Arthur dreaded what he wanted with her. Even though he had talked to Neville for just a moment, Arthur knew that his wasn't the same Neville that stayed summers at the Burrow and laughed along with his children. This Neville was different yet the same all over again…the Chosen One.

The three scientists left without a word, leaving Arthur to his musings and fears. He needed the wand soon to warn them. If they found Hermione, Merlin only knew what they would do with the smartest witch of their age. But he couldn't press Nicholas. Nicholas had to be comfortable taking the wand to him.

On the fifth day, the scientists returned and this time, they weren't so happy and inquisitive. Immediately, Arthur noticed the shift of atmosphere in the room. Bargos entered first, as always, his purple eyes mired in disappointment while Winters was close on his heels, his icy blue irises flashing dangerously. He barely noticed Vank and the still unnamed body guard.

"You lied to us," Winters hissed as they encircled him like a trapped dog.

Arthur didn't doubt that he did. What he didn't know was which lie they were talking about. He had told them so many that he couldn't really claim innocence.

"Lied about what?" Arthur feigned ignorance anyways.

"Don't play dumb with us," Winters barked. Arthur forgot sometimes, despite all of his stubbornness and arrogance, that Winters was supposed to be an intelligent man.

"Arthur," Bargos intoned softly, "Someone _died_ because you lied to us."

He shouldn't have felt ashamed, but he couldn't help himself. The thought of someone else dying from his false pretense soured the slight achievement of pointing the scientists towards the wrong direction. He wanted to ask _why_, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth. Vank answered in his soft, rich accent.

"The enchantments you gave us for levitation were wrong and someone died when the item refused to hold the person's weight."

Arthur gulped, remembering that he had purposely misled them when it came to the exact enhancements needed to properly stabilize the capacitor. His inner voice told him that these were his kidnappers and he shouldn't feel sorry for them, but it was clear they weren't all bad. Bargos, despite his curiousness, was a very amicable man. Same with Vank. And Nicholas…dear Nicholas…was innocent and naïve. There were good people in this outfit.

"Why didn't you have safety precautions? What were you trying to do? If you tell me what you were trying to do, then maybe I can help. You could have messed up the runes. They're very specific and one incorrect…"

"They were correct! I did them myself!" Winters glared at Arthur. "Now stop lying to us and tell us the correct runes."

"But I did," Arthur sputtered.

_SLAP_.

The backhand was unexpected and vicious, raking across Arthur's eyes. Bargos swore softly and turned away while Vank just gulped uncomfortably. Winters still stood over him, his knuckles turning red from where they connected with Arthur's face. Out of the corner of Arthur's eye, he could see Winters simmering with rage.

"You stupid fool," he hissed, "Someone _died_ because of you. No more games. You _will_ tell us the truth."

_But you can't!_ The voice inside his head sounded oddly like Ginny's husband. _You know what they want to use magic for_.

"I - I -I…."

Winters raised his hand again but a clear, concise order came in.

"Enough."

The word was spoken with a finality, staying Winters' hand immediately and causing all of the others to flinch. At once, they bowed to a knee, the body guard included. Through the tears and the already swelling eye, Arthur spotted three figures coming in.

His eyes automatically flew towards Neville, garbed in a white robe with a silver cross dangling from a chain around his neck. Arthur's heart fell as he saw who he was leading along. Nicholas was in front of him, but the boy was…_smiling_. In his hands, he also held what Arthur treasured second behind his wife.

It was his wand.

He almost didn't notice the third man in robes and a hood trailing behind him, too concentrated on the wand. Yet, all of this stunk of a trap. Nicholas shouldn't be smiling. He shouldn't have his wand. And most of all, Neville should not be with him.

"Chosen One…"

All of them murmured it like a blessing and Neville nodded once at the scientists and the bodyguard. His gaze just passed over Arthur, but it was nothing. Just a cursory glance at the wounded animal in the corner.

"Leave us all."

"Come." The man in the robes with his hood pulled over beckoned the rest of them towards the door. Winters gave Arthur one last icy glare as he left, but in truth, Arthur would have preferred him to stay. He could depend on Winters' stubbornness and rashness, but he didn't know hat o do with this cold monster in front of him. They left, the door shutting behind them with a finality. Some of the lights must have been turned on as Arthur could finally see the room bathed in fluorescent light.

"Hello Arthur," Neville smiled at him again, but it was mocking.

Arthur turned to silence again, trying to decipher what he could learn from Neville, but he was too distracted by Nicholas' toothy and gapped grin. _Run, boy. Run as far from here as possible!_

"Nicholas told me that you aren't a demon like everyone else believes. He thinks you're an…angel." Neville drew the word out, but Arthur could see the smirk playing on his lips behind the innocent Nicholas. _So he knows it's all a sham too_. _But why? Why is he in on it?_

And this time, Arthur couldn't help but ask, "Why are you doing this Neville?"

Neville's smell for just a moment but he hid it well. He squeezed Nicholas on the shoulder and turned the boy slightly so he could look him in the eye.

"Do you want to hear a story about the first war, Nicholas?"

Nicholas eagerly nodded his head, clear as day that he worshipped Neville.

"There was a boy that everyone said was going to save the world. He had all these expectations set upon him before he even knew how to walk or talk. He grew up and everyone asked him to do this and do that without even wondering how he felt about it. But still, the boy pushed on and on, sacrificing every part of his mind because he _believed_ that he was destined to save the world."

"All the while he grew more isolated as each and every one of his friends abandoned him. His best friend turned away when the sun went down. The girl he loved left him. The wizard that trained him died and left him with no guidance. The only voice he ever heard was the dark one whispering and seducing him. Yet, _STILL_, they asked him to save the world."

"And he did," Neville raised his chin triumphantly, "He killed the monster and thought everything would change but nothing did. His friends still left him. The love of his life refused to speak to him and in the end, he did the only thing he could do. He shut up the voices in his head."

He squeezed Nicholas' shoulder as the boy grew more confused with the story. "I'm telling you this Nicholas because you have to realize that sometimes you have to do things the way you want them and not the way everyone else wants you to do it. That boy didn't want to have to save the world, but he did so and what was his reward? A pat on the back and everyone standing a Hippogriff's distance away from the crazy boy."

"I don't understand," Nicholas stuttered, "I thought the Boy-Who-Lived was a hero!"

"He was a hero," Neville stared at Arthur with cold, grim eyes. "It's just that everyone that mattered to him didn't think so."

Neville gently pushed Nicholas forward, the boy slightly tumbling as he did so. Neville nodded towards Arthur, his arms folded in his robes so that they were completely hidden.

"Give him his wand, Nicholas. Let's see him do a trick."

Nicholas' eyes lit up at the prospect, completely forgetting the grim tale Neville just unraveled. Nicholas happily bounded to Arthur and gave him his wand, which Arthur took in slight disbelief. _What are you playing at, Neville?_

Before he could stop him, Nicholas turned and walked back towards Neville and Neville placed a hand on his shoulder, delicately but firmly at the same time. Arthur's eyes flicked downwards to his wand and he felt the familiar rush of magic weave through his arm.

"Go on," Neville enchanted softly, "Show us a _trick_."

_He wants me to try. He wants me to try and Apparate. No doubt the whole place is covered with an Anti-Apparition ward._

If he wasn't able to Apparate, then why give him the wand? It didn't take a second after he asked himself that question that he realized the answer. _He's challenging me. He wants me to attack him_.

Arthur's eyes traveled down Neville's covered sleeve to the good hand that laid on Nicholas' shoulder. The clarity of the situation dawned upon Arthur in a minute. Neville intended to use Nicholas a shield for Arthur's first spell. The first spell was so crucial in a duel, but having Nicholas in the equation complicated matters.

"Can you do some magic, Arthur?" Nicholas asked with a hopeful tone.

It pained the father to see the young boy so eager to see some magic and he smiled as best he could at the redhead with the gap tooth and the freckles along his nose. _If only you knew what was about to happen, Nicholas_.

Arthur raised his wand and shouted, "_STUPEFY!"_

It was a useful spell. If Neville decided to block it with Nicholas' body, the boy would simply be stunned. If not, Arthur had the upper hand and the tempo. The blue stunner raced towards Neville, but Arthur watched in dismay as it _bent around him._

Nicholas squealed and clapped his hands, not knowing the intent of the spell and Neville just grinned cockily. Arthur watched as the hand moved from the shoulder to the back of Nicholas' neck, shifting so his grip resembled a choke.

"Again, Arthur. Show us another _trick_," Neville taunted.

_He wants me to use the Killing Curse. He wants me to use the spell that can't be avoided_.

But Arthur already knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't risk the possibility of killing Nicholas. He knew that it made him a frail, old man, incapable of making the difficult decision, but he could live with that. He could live the remainder of his probably short lifespan with that.

_But I can still fight._

"_IMMOBULUS!"_ Arthur cried, flinging his wand and strafing sideways, predicting Neville would finally respond. Neville raised his off arm and deflected the spell, diffusing the sparks. Arthur's jaw dropped again.

_How can he do that? He has no hand there. He can't have a wand there!_

Nicholas clapped again, though this time a bit hesitantly. There were sparks and beams, but he couldn't actually _see_ any magic beyond that. He looked up at Neville's freakish grin and back at Arthur in confusion.

"Arthur…where's the magic?"

Neville laughed, a guttural cry that echoed loudly in the enclosed room. Arthur held his wand out in front of him in preparation but didn't know what other spells he could use without harming Nicholas. Neville had found his weak point and was exploiting it without even casting a spell.

Frustrated and perplexed, Arthur moaned, "What happened to you, Neville?"

At this, Neville's eyes suddenly turned red and he whispered, "I think the darkness finally won, Arthur."

Neville thrust out his off arm and a gleaming, gold replica of a hand burst forth, shining underneath the light. He motioned with it and Arthur felt an overwhelming force bring him to his knees, clashing his joints against the cement. He cried out in pain and tried to raise his wand, but found his whole body clenched in agony. Every nerve was on fire as he cried out again.

Nicholas whimpered and tried to turn away and duck his head, but Neville kept a firm grip along his neck, forcing him to watch. He brought Arthur closer, beckoning with his golden hand. Arthur's knees skidded along the ground as he was brought forth, inch by inch.

"Do you like this, Arthur? I know you like inventions. They found my old wand and infused it within this golden hand attached it to my stump. They call it the Hand of God."

_But you're so strong! You've never been this strong!_

"I know I haven't. Something's changed in me," Neville read his mind easily, but Arthur was in too much pain to register the shock of his Legillemency.

"Watch," Neville whispered, "Watch as he dies."

_Yes, _Arthur thought, _kill me so I won't have to tell anymore secrets_.

Neville dragged Arthur face to face with Nicholas and they were the same height when Arthur was forced to kneel. Every nerve of his body was still on fire, but he couldn't bear to see Nicholas' tears.

"Close…your eyes….son," Arthur managed to choke out, "Don't look."

Nicholas whimpered, tears flowing from his eyes as he obeyed Arthur and shut them. Neville kept his grip tight on the boy's neck and Arthur used every fiber of his willpower to raise his eyes and look contemptuously at Neville, the boy who used to play with his children.

_Just do it already_, Arthur thought.

Neville shrugged carelessly. "As you say."

_SNAP_.

He crushed Nicholas' neck easily, the vertebrae breaking as he did so. At the same time, something tore apart within Arthur as he cried out in emotional pain, watching Nicholas' lifeless body crumple to the floor. Neville released him from then spell so that he, too, collapsed. Arthur sobbed on the ground, the guilt overwhelming him.

"Nicholas is a lesson, Arthur. We need to tell you the truth so these good scientists can work diligently at my project. Tell them what you know. You've always been _very _creative."

Neville pivoted, his white robes billowing around him as he tucked his hands back into the sleeves. He pulled open the door but turned around, silhouetted in the light so his shadow covered Arthur.

"Molly is the next lesson if you don't learn quickly, Arthur."

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter is Hermione-centric**

**Notes and references:**

**-Credit again to Darklooshkin for coming up with the idea of how brooms technically work. Again, much of the technicalities of magic are credited towards him.**

**-Thank you to all my reviewers who R&R these chapters**

**-Arthur's first prison is a confessional**

**-These chapters are not chronological. Although they roughly travel along the same time frame, that doesn't mean they directly follow each other in terms of time. For example, the next chapter occurs **_**during**_** this chapter while events from the previous chapter occur during this chapter (hint: magical signature)**

**-Neville describing Ron being pelted by objects while blindfolded is a reference to Chapter 3 of OBWL during the first duel with Harry and Malfoy versus Hermione and Ron.**

**-There is more to Neville being revived just reviving him from the dead. He returned a different way than Harry. Can you guess how? The reviewer(s) who can guess it get a confirmation from me.**

**-Not a lot of other references but the Hand of God is sort of Star Wars-inspired.**

**-As always, reviews are welcome.**


	6. No Magic Needed

They tried a variety of spells, all pretense of being discrete and staying under the radar flying out of the window. Harry tried his best on a list of spells that ranged from the simple _Alohamora_ to his patented _Protego Maxima_.

None of them worked.

Harry tried his best to be stoic and patient, but Hermione always knew when he was struggling to contain his emotions. His lips would purse and he would continually sigh in frustration. Harry's head would bob back and forth as he waited for Hermione to finish conducting a series of spells.

_Please let this work_, Hermione thought as she gave him her wand and let him attempt a _Lumos_. The spell required almost no wandwork and activated almost simultaneously with the word. But the tent stayed dark and there was no light at the end of the tunnel. There was only Harry's disconsolate face, submerged in the shadows.

She could only imagine what he was going through, the sudden revival and then subsequent loss of magic. Such a tumultuous turn of events was bound to unhinge anyone. But she reminded herself that she had suffered just as much. The words she heard every night reminded her of her folly.

"Let's stop for the night, Hermione," Harry tiredly recommended after another failed spell.

"No," Hermione shook her head, the dampness causing her hair to stick to her neck. "We've ran through a battery of tests that only affect inanimate objects. Why don't we try spells that focus on other people. Perhaps it just needs to be triggered and after that, the proverbial floodgates will opened," she theorized.

Harry sighed exhaustedly. "I don't think it's going to work. We've tried _Stupefy_ and _Immobulus_ but neither of them have worked. If those don't work, what's going to?"

"Perhaps an Unforgivable?"

Harry only raised an eyebrow, supplying her answer with one movement.

"I suppose not," Hermione's shoulders dropped. "I just don't understand…"

"Auguria said there would be consequences," Harry shrugged helplessly. "Does it really surprise you that this would be one of them?"

"But without magic…"

"I know," Harry nodded as he turned around and took off his shirt, "I'm nothing."

_But you're everything to me_, Hermione wanted to say, but she feared it wouldn't help. She didn't want to sound too helpless after all, not in a time like this. Harry would need every belief that his magic still existed, even if the gnawing feeling in the pit of Hermione's stomach said otherwise.

They finally went to sleep, nearing three in the morning, and Hermione was plagued by restless nightmares of Neville continually hunting her down. He took in different shapes, but always caught her in the end and when she woke, she found that Harry was rubbing her back and whispering soothing words in her ear.

After a few more moments of consoling her, he asked, "How long has it been going on?"

She thought about lying to him but found it fruitless. He already knew. "For a couple of years now."

Harry nodded, mostly to himself. "I had them every night after my parents died. Each time, I couldn't save them."

She understood the significance of both nightmares. They dressed and Hermione intended to run through another battery of test that would cross a variety of spells from different studies and fields of magic, but Harry stopped her midway through her explanation.

"Let's do something else today." It was more of an order than a question.

"Harry," she dug her heels in, refusing to give ground, "We need to see what works and what doesn't. If we can eliminate certain things, it will give us a clearer picture…"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted her, too patiently for her liking, "I don't think it's going to happen."

_You're just not trying hard enough!_ She wanted to yell at him so bad. She could hear it in the timber of his voice. _You can't give up already. I didn't give up when they told me I couldn't bring you back and here you are_.

"If we can just…"

"No, Hermione," Harry said it more firmly this time.

She bristled at his stubbornness but recognized when Harry didn't want to do something. Vowing to convince him later, Hermione nodded stiffly, allowing him to let this pass for now. His shoulders dropped in relief, not wanting to extend this into a bigger argument.

Leading him outside, Hermione held his hand tightly and memorized the contours of his palm. The body was new and she was unused to the sweatier hands and the rougher skin, but with enough exposure, he would be the same Harry she remembered. She was determined to make it so.

If he noticed her excessive physical contact, besides sex, he didn't say anything. He simply kept a hold of her hand and she was grateful Harry didn't pull away. Still, she could feel the funk he was in even if he hid it by refusing to speak about it.

_Just because you don't talk about it doesn't mean it doesn't exist_. But Hermione was used to Harry's taciturn turns and resolved to coax it out of him later instead of trying to force the issue. Doing so would just force him to impatience and he would shut himself in a shell. She desperately didn't want him to do that.

"Jeanne!" Juan came bounding up to them as he usually did in the mornings. "We're going into town today to get some things. Do you want to come?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply that they had a busy day and they needed to speak to Auguria, but Harry beat her to the punch.

"Sure! We'd love to go!" Harry stated in an over affected tone.

She squeezed his hand a little harder, trying her best not to get angry with him. Sometimes, it seemed as if he did everything to ignore her point of view and simply push onwards. A part of her recognized that it was his way of combating with her steamrolling approach, but it didn't appease her any.

* * *

The village was pretty self sustaining with running water piped into their lone concrete foundation and crops that grew a bountiful harvest. Still, there were specialties and other items that could only be procured by the small market about six miles down the road. Hermione often accompanied them to buy them things when money ran low from the small jobs the few of them had.

They loaded into the back of Hermione's van. Juan was bouncing on his sister's lap while Mavan and a few others jammed into the back as well. Hermione turned on the engine, driving begrudgingly towards the small town where they could buy some supplies for the village. As she sped down the dirt pathway, she glanced over and saw Harry with his arm languidly hanging out of the window and his face staring off into the mountain range.

He closed his eyes as the wind whipped his hair back and forth and Hermione was struck by how quickly she remembered his mannerisms. Harry might have looked a bit different, but he was still the same person in all other regards. Except for the magic bit. _But we'll be able to fix that too. I'm sure I can do it._

After all, there were still secrets she had to keep from him for his own good. She felt wrong keeping things from him, but she had to take things one at a time. First, get his magic back. Then, she would see if she could reveal to him something else that was new about this world.

Parking against a building that had dirt and mud sliding down the side of its white stone, Hermione killed the engine and unlocked the sliding doors on the side for everyone. They ambled out, Juan the first among them. Harry followed slowly, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

"Don't mind the garbage," Mavan said with a toothy grin, "At least you don't have to eat it."

Harry gingerly picked up the silver trash can lid and placed it on top of the heaping pile of mess and mold. He dusted his hands off on his khaki shorts, his face wrinkling in disgust at the growing mass.

"Can't anyone throw it away?" Harry asked her once they were clear of the foul odor…at least as clear as they could be without retching.

Hermione shrugged. "It's not as if this place is broken up into municipalities. Maybe someone will come around to pick it up, maybe not. Most of it decomposes eventually."

The children were released into the market, bouncing around and talking to the few locals they knew, hoping to barter some sort of candy for all of their crops. The adults were more selective, trying to choose things that would last them a while so they didn't have to make more than necessary trips into the small town.

Hermione watched as Harry wandered around aimlessly, picking up a fruit or two but never lingering for long. He stopped in front of a worker on break, watching a small TV set as the new president of the states waved to the crowd. Hermione stepped beside him, resisting the urge to link hands with his.

"Everything's different, isn't it?" Harry asked as he continued to watch.

Hermione declined to answer his question, knowing it was a double-edged sword. "Come on. Let's go help them pick out some supplies they'll need."

Most of it was bathroom and hospitality supplies. They were things that you couldn't simply create and Hermione wanted them to have as much convenience as they could in their little village. Once or twice, Hermione tried to convince them to move into a bigger city, but they refused to leave their home. There was always the danger of what lay beyond and most were content growing crops and hunting food when they could.

Juan bounced around them, excitedly chattering about a new ball he could haggle over. The last one had deflated after quite some time and while Hermione could have easily patched the hole with a wave of her wand, she thought they had tried enough spells to send out enough magical signatures to attract anyone within the area. Still, they would have to be specifically looking for her to even notice her magical signature and she doubted anyone would go through such a process.

She purchased the ball for Juan with a little bit of coin she had in her pocket and beamed at him as he started juggling it, methodically alternating his feet as he did so. "Good job, Juan!" she exclaimed.

In that momentary lapse, she realized that Harry wasn't in her immediate vicinity. Her heart started to race, despite herself, and she quickly scanned the crowd, hoping to see that unruly mop of black hair that wasn't his, but was, at the same time. She let out a sigh of relief as she spotted him at the small telly again, watching and chattering excitedly to the man beside him. As she neared, she could hear the language barrier as Harry tried to communicate without knowing any Spanish.

"No," Harry made signs with his hands and Hermione had to stifle a giggle as he waved his arms around animatedly.

"This -" he pointed at the telly, "-man is my -" he jabbed a finger at himself, "-friend."

The bronzed man with the cap looked at him blankly before launching in a tidal wave of Spanish, pointing back and forth between the telly and Harry with a grin. Harry nodded, not understanding a single word that was said. As he shook his head in mirth, he spotted Hermione out of the corner of his eye.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, "Did you see this?"

She looked at the telly and spotted Draco and Ginny walking with an entourage she didn't recognize. The newscaster was reporting that he had touched down just a few days ago and there was much speculation as to the purpose of his sudden arrival in the states.

Harry snorted as he watched Draco glare at a camera, his half-burnt face twisting grotesquely as he did so. "Draco…President of a whole organization. Whose brilliant idea was that?"

"Minister Shacklebolt of all people. He saw something in Draco that no one else saw. I still remember Ginny telling me how much he _didn't_ want the job."

"The last person on Earth that would _foster_ cooperation between Muggles and Wizards. You think Kingsley had something else in mind when he forced him for the job?"

It was something Hermione considered in her down time traveling from country to country searching for a way to bring Harry back. More than once, she had questioned Kingsley's judgment in assigning Draco that role, but there was a little bit of truth in it. If he wanted someone that would leak magical information as slowly as possible, Draco was their man.

"You can ask him whenever we get back."

Harry turned around swiftly at this statement, his eyes curious and inquisitive. Hermione tried not to get lost in the stare his green-golden eyes, but she couldn't help herself. Though it was a different body, she could still feel that it was Harry _behind_ those eyes.

"You mean to go back?" Harry asked softly.

"I did what I set out to do. We should probably stay low for a little while longer, but I think we'll have to go back home eventually."

"Home," Harry echoed.

_A home I left so long ago_. She wondered if anyone would even recognize her when they returned. To Hermione, it had already become a matter of when and not if. She was tired of running around, globetrotting the world for half-chances and mythical lies. Even if they didn't return to England, she wanted to go somewhere they could call home, preferably away from any press uproar that would accompany Harry's return. Besides, once they started digging deep about _how_ he returned, they would find the truth of Hermione's murder.

_Yes, we will go home, but only to tell people he's back. I don't want to stay there. Too many memories_.

As if on cue, the voice came back. _I killed him and I wanted to do it_…

She must have spaced out for a moment because she felt Harry's hand gently shaking her. She looked up at his concerned face and was once again struck by how happy she was that he was back.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm perfect," she responded. Intertwining their hands, she said, "We'll get your magic back, Harry."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say as his face darkened and the hope of returning home was once again doused by the reminder that he couldn't perform a simple _Alohamora. _He pulled his hand away from hers and she tried to ignore the stinging bite.

Before she could console him, a loud rumbling took their attention. Hermione looked towards the improvised dirt road leading to the town, squinting her eyes as she recognized the sound of an engine. One - no, two - jeeps emerged over the horizon, at least four men in each of them. She couldn't recognize them from afar, but felt an unsettling pit in her stomach.

"Hey, maybe it's the garbage men," Harry commented.

_I don't think so_, she wanted to say but kept that tidbit to herself until she could confirm the identity of these men on jeeps.

As they killed the engine and hopped out of their jeeps, Hermione's heart sunk as she spotted the guns, knives, and machetes.

_The Cartel_.

The whole of Central America was infused with drug cartels and drug lords and Guatemala was none different. They've had encounters before, but Hermione had been able to maneuver the village in such a way that a simple Notice-Me-Not spell deterred any drug cartels from passing through and stealing all of their hard earned crops. Here at the town, though, they were free to see and Hermione counted all eight of them. Harry tensed as he spotted the guns too, immediately trying to shield Hermione from the gangly men with the smiles of jackals.

She assessed the situation, hoping that they were just there to pick up supplies from the local vendor in town, but the way they were walking around did not do anything for Hermione's optimism. They were pretending to joke around with the kids, taking their playthings and candy and either eating it front of their faces or smashing them against the ground.

One of them came close to Juan and she instinctively moved his way. The man close to Juan wore two leather straps that ran down the length of his torso. Knives were looped into every hook for a total of ten shanks. Hermione didn't have to wonder what he did with them.

"That looks like a new ball, _chico_. You want to play?" Knife-man leered at Juan with a smile that was missing his incisors.

Juan shook his head speechlessly, clutching the ball tightly to his chest as he tried to back away from the ever approaching man. The ten knives gleamed in the sunlight, shining and flickering. There was no doubt that he kept them well polished. He stepped forward, assumingly to continue antagonizing Juan, but he must have spotted Hermione coming closer.

"What's this?" his tone slithered into something more predatory, "Two _gringos_? Mavan, you didn't tell me you had two _gringos _with you! I never see you anymore!"

Mavan, gruff and big, was discretely pushing all of the children behind him. Unfortunately, the drug cartel was between them and their van and Hermione could already see that there was only one way out of this situation.

_Through_.

"Introduce us, Mavan!" Knife-man continued to call the shots as the rest of his thugs slowly fanned out.

Hermione immediately recognized that they were trying to ensnare them. Three men on the left slowly walked down the alleys between the food carts while four men on the right did the same thing. By moving towards Juan, she had made them an easy target to encircle.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_, Hermione berated herself. Still, she had one enormous advantage over them. Her wand was tucked into the back pocket of her shorts and she only needed one _Accio_ spell to take away their guns and knives.

Meanwhile, Mavan declined to speak, instead glaring at the knife-man with contempt. Mavan spit out something in Spanish that the knife-man immediately replied to, the words foreign to Hermione's ears.

"You've lost your _cojones_, Mavan. You gonna to let this _punta_ control you? I'm not so rude. _Me llamo _Crevan. I'm here to give you some protection from all of those _bad drug lords_."

The rest of his gang snickered as he spoke, clearly enjoying Crevan's little game. They were coming closer and Hermione discretely put her hand behind her back, reaching for her wand. As she grasped a hold of the base, Crevan tutted and she heard the soft click of a gun locking into place.

"Now just what are you doing, _punta_?" Crevan turned to her, but she could see that the gun pointed at her was coming from her left. Harry shifted his feet a bit so he shielded her from the gun, but that didn't make her any happier. Without magic, what was Harry going to do to defend her?

"Take your hand out from back there. I think I can find other uses for it," Crevan ogled her with a devious smile.

Hermione didn't answer, too busy calculating the possibility of escaping this situation unarmed. The problem with guns was that it all had to be done in one smooth motion. She couldn't go through the process of using _Expelliarmus_ on each one. Her aim was neither that accurate nor was she quick enough to hit all eight targets. It would have to be _Accio_. She busied herself by concentrating on all of the guns in sight.

Through intuition or sheer luck, Harry bought her a few precious seconds. "Just take what you want and leave us alone," Harry glowered at them.

The smiled dropped form Crevan's face, obvious displeasure showing. "And who do you think you are, _gringo_? Crevan runs all of the towns the length of this river. We will take what we want and nothing less."

_Great. He speaks in third-person_. Hermione envisioned all of the guns rising into the air and speeding towards her, then falling in a neat little pile so he could disarm anyone that came close. Most likely, it wouldn't even come to that as they would be fearful enough of her magic to back away.

"_ACCIO GUNS!" _Hermione roared, the guns flying through the air, jerking out of their holsters. They sped upwards first, collecting like a giant rain cloud before rocketing back towards the ground. Hermione smoothly placed them all behind her.

Various states of shock echoed throughout the group. Juan's jaw dropped open, his eyes half-fearful and half-in-love with Hermione. The rest of their little group had similarly stunned expressions while most of the gang backed away in fear. Crevan looked at her with huge eyes, his hands shaking in anger. Before Hermione could take pride in her spell, she spotted the gleam.

_The knives! I forgot the knives_!

Crevan smoothly ripped two knives out of their pockets, his hands expertly throwing them in such a way that they tumbled end over end towards their targets. Harry pushed her, managing to avoid one knife but the other glanced off her shoulder, cutting deep. The unexpected pain brought her to her knees as the cut had to be at least two inches deep.

Her sudden scream broke the reverie as the children started to yell as well, running backwards to take cover behind anything she could find. Hermione looked up to see Crevan reaching for another knife and she was to immobilized to do anything else but watch.

Crevan threw the knife and she could see the pointy end tumbling towards her, but a body suddenly appeared in front of her, blocking not only her eyesight but the path of the blade.

_No!_ She immediately thought, knowing who was foolish enough to throw themselves in front of her like that. Yet, as the knife struck, there was an odd metal clang instead of the sick thud of a knife slicing through flesh. Harry rose up and she could see that he was using the garbage can lid as a _shield_. As he came to his feet, she realized he had something else in his other hand.

Unlike her, Harry did not hesitate.

_BANG. BANG. BANG._

The three bullets ripped through Crevan, jerking his body backwards. Blood spattered across the food carts as the sudden calamity sent everyone scattering to different directions for cover. Hermione could sag down, relieved that it was over and hopefully having enough time to mend the wound.

But Harry wasn't done.

He swiveled the gun, pointing towards the shocked members of the gang to his left and pulled the trigger. One by one they fell, bodies hitting the dirt as Harry's aim was true and strong. The four on the right were retreating towards their jeeps, unarmed and helpless as Harry marched forward. Two of them were struck down before they could even make it to the jeep as Harry ditched the metal shield with the knife embedded in it.

_Click. Click_.

The gun was empty and Harry cursed in frustration as he watched the last two load into the jeep. He picked up one of the rifles and jumped on top of a flatbed cart for better leverage. Hermione watched in awe and terror as he raised the gun to his shoulder, aiming down the sights.

_BANG_.

While the pistol was loud, the rifle snapped with such ferocity that Hermione jumped. The thug in the passenger seat slumped forward, blood splatters on the windshield. The driver took off, the jeep attempting to race away in a windstorm of dirt. Harry took careful aim, tracking the jeep as it rocked unsteadily on the dirt path.

_BANG_.

Hermione couldn't see what happened, the jeep too far away and out of her eyesight. Harry lowered the rifle, angrily looking out into the distance. A sudden quietness overtook the market as neither the children nor the adults spoke as they watched Harry. He looked down at her, the stormy green eyes settling a little bit.

"I missed the last one," he said ruefully.

_He wanted them all?_ Hermione couldn't help but ask him, "Why did you do that?"

Harry looked at her as if that was the most ridiculous question in the world.

"So they wouldn't come back."

* * *

Mavan did all of the dirty work, taking the bodies into the jungle and either ditching them through the woods or piling them up for the animals to eat. After using some magic to seal the wound on her shoulder, Hermione was able to get everyone else in the van. Still, she was sore and eventually had to let Santana usher the rest of them in.

Harry disappeared with Mavan into the jungle, presumably to help with the bodies. Blood stained the dirt in the market but it was already indistinguishable from the rest of the sediments. It was the blood on the food carts that was harder to take out. With nothing like a pressure washer or hose, they just had to scrub it away. Hermione promised to come back later and fix it magically, but she was too exhausted from her wound to do so at the moment.

"You're a witch," Juan said quietly as she sat in the passenger seat of the van.

Hermione tried smiling at him, but she could still hear the loud snaps of the gunshots. "I am. I'm sorry I lied to you."

Santana answered for him, her look inscrutable. "It's okay. You have done a lot for us."

Hermione chose not to respond to that, not knowing how to take it. Looking forward, Hermione spotted Mavan and Harry emerging from the jungle and she could hear the sudden hush that fell upon the van. No one spoke as Harry came closer, but Hermione didn't know if it was from fear or awe.

Mavan went to the back while Harry sat in the driver's seat and started the engine. He didn't speak as he set the van into drive, heading towards their little village again. His hands gripped the wheel tightly and he stared ahead, his jaw clenched so tightly that Hermione was worried he would grind his teeth into nothingness.

No one spoke during the short ride, and while Hermione couldn't see, she knew that everyone was looking at Harry while he drove. They arrived in their little village, sweat and musk filling their nostrils until the van door opened. The children quickly exited, running off towards their patched huts while the adults lingered, slowly exiting and keeping an eye on Harry at the same time.

Harry, Hermione, and Mavan were the last to leave, Mavan seemingly lingering behind the others. Harry didn't waste any time and took off towards their own place. Hermione made to follow him, but a hand caught her arm. Mavan looked at her, his brown skin crinkling around his eyes.

"Thank you."

Hermione was shocked to hear the thanks and could only shake her head. "I'm sorry you had to see all of that."

"I am not," Mavan immediately responded, "I used to be one of…_them_. Your friend was right. If he did not kill them all, they would come back, and that time, they would not have been so slow to act."

He let her go, leaving her flummoxed and confused. She didn't know that Mavan was part of the drug cartel before but even through her pain and haze, she could still see some truth in his logic. What Harry had done was…vicious and unsympathetic…but they definitely wouldn't be coming back.

She entered their hut and found Harry on the cot, staring at his hands again. She paused in the doorway, trying to find words but unable to do so. What could she say that would be of comfort to him? Watching him gun down the rest of the thugs had been brutal and merciless. It reminded her of the War in so many ways and the lengths Harry went to win. Even a decade from then it, it was still…

"The same. I'm still the same person," Harry voiced her thoughts aloud as he continued to rotate and examine his hands.

"Harry -" she started.

"Don't," he interrupted, "Just don't. I don't even need magic to…"

_Kill. I killed him and I wanted to do it…_

Hermione pushed the voice out of her head and made herself sit down besides Harry. She stilled his rotating hands by placing hers in his. Holding them tight, she hoped that she could assuage him of his never-ending guilt. So much time had passed, but the same problems were already rising.

"Harry, what you did…it was out of necessity. Mavan came to me after you left and said you were right…to do what you did."

There was a pause as he let the information sink in, but he still shook his head. "I can't be this person. I don't want to be this person."

Not knowing anything else to add, Hermione said, "Then don't."

Harry shook his head again as if he couldn't believe it was his hands that shot those guns. He had been so accurate, so unflinching as he brought them down one by one. She knew he had weapons training with Samson during the War, but it was another thing completely remember how to do it in the moment. There was muscle memory and adjustments involved and while it might have been the same mind, it was a completely different body.

And still, Harry did not hesitate.

She tried to rationalize it by believing in what Mavan had said. Harry had to strike them down to make sure they didn't return and kill them all when they came back. He had to beat them so convincingly that they would never try. Even if he didn't get them all, perhaps the one that escaped would be so traumatized that they would never _think _of coming back.

Yet, his actions were so vicious and cold. How far could she take this rationalization? What acts could Harry commit that finally fell under sadistic instead of for the protection of this little village? She could only imagine the tumultuous conflict inside his own head and gripped his hands tighter, trying to distract him.

He sighed as he lifted his head to look at her. "Your shoulder. Is it okay?"

Hermione hesitantly nodded which caused Harry to peel the strap of her tank top off her shoulder. The wound was bright red and still bled a little. Hermione, despite the rest of her genius, was squeamish when it came to wounds and was never the best at healing.

"Is there any gauze or something that will cover the wound?" Harry asked.

"Of course. I always bring a first-aid kit."

Harry shook his head amusedly, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. "Always so prepared."

He stood up to go find the first-aid kit, rummaging through the bottom drawer as he did so. Finding the gauze and tape, Harry looked around in confusion.

"What do you need?" Hermione asked.

"Scissors. I need to cut the gauze."

He kept looking around, unable to find it and Hermione joined his search. Harry paced around the room, gauze and tape in hand, as he continued to look. Finally, Hermione spotted it on the floor beside the first-aid kit. It must have fell out as he retrieved the kit. She turned to tell him where it was but paused as Harry continued to search in a pile of trinkets Hermione kept in the corner.

"Where is it?" she could hear him murmur.

Hermione watched as the scissor gently levitated into the air, floating unevenly as Harry continued to search. She looked back at him in shock and then at the scissors. _It can't be…it can't be just a coincidence_.

She ignored the faint feeling in her head as she continued to watch the scissor levitate in the air. _I knew it!_ That faint feeling was growing in her head and she had to put her other arm down to steady herself. _He still has magic_!

"Harry!" she called out, but it was weak and her voice was unsteady.

She pointed at the hovering scissors and weakly stuttered, "You can still…you can still…"

But she couldn't finish her sentence as the faintness overtook her, sending her into murky and dark depths as she mercifully passed out.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter is Ginny-centric**

**Notes and references:**

**-Instead of summoning the knives, Hermione summons the guns. See Chapter 10 of OBWL for the reversal of that**

**-There is more to Hermione fainting at the end**

**-There are several consequences in this chapter that will come back for them. All of this magic will not go undetected**

**-Sadly enough, there are no references in this chapter**

**-A few people guessed the path Neville took back and to them, I say congratulations.**

**-Hermione's secret is something else that is guessable this week. I wonder, I wonder…**

**-Reviews, as always, are very welcome**


	7. A New Player

Ginny looked up at the clear, blue sky. The sun was shining brightly above the billowy clouds and she had to squint as she looked over the jagged mess of towers and skyscrapers. There was nothing like New York city and though she had visited it thrice before, the congestion of buildings always amazed her. She felt for the stone balcony and gripped it tightly, leaning forward and trying to find that nonexistent object in the distance.

"Where are you, Mum? Dad?" she asked herself softly.

There was no answer but the whipping of the wind and the howl of the commute below. She felt strange here, a foreigner in a bustling city. Yet, she reminded herself that she would do anything to find her parents and she would go the lengths of the world to ensure their safety.

It had been a week since they learned of their kidnapping. Originally, Ginny wanted to fly back to England to inspect the Burrow and discover any clues the attackers might have left behind, but Keiran and Draco convinced her that they would most likely be brought back to America. The Legion of Light was their number one suspect and the more information they discovered, the more likely it was that their suspicions were well founded.

Still, the States were obtusely large and finding Arthur and Molly would be no easy task. While the working theory was that the Legion had brought her parents to their home bases in the Southeast, anywhere else could have been just as likely. Xander Boggarts was digging through all possible leads and contacting all ground assets, but the Legion was closely guarded and the lack of inside information was hurting them.

When Ginny prompted _why_ her parents would be kidnapped, it had broken out a long, testy argument. Keiran was convinced it was the work of the remnants of Death Eaters past, most notably - Bellatrix LeStrange. Some part of Ginny agreed with the serious and contrite man, but Hugh and Xander raised counterpoints that could not be ignored.

Hugh argued that Death Eaters wouldn't take Arthur and Molly. While they posed a personal significance to the Weasley clan, they were hardly high in the chain of political targets. Both of them were retired and spent their days relaxing in the Burrow with a smatter of grandchildren visiting them often. It wouldn't make much sense for the Death Eaters to kidnap them unless they wanted to drag the Weasleys in.

"Even then, what is their connection with the Legion of Light? You can't tell me Bellatrix LeStrange would be heading up this cult. I've read her profile. This doesn't fit her type at all. She craves chaos and destruction, not subterfuge and leading the masses. That's more Tom Riddle than Bellatrix," Hugh had argued.

"All of our outside sources have confirmed no sightings of Bellatrix LeStrange or any other former Death Eaters. If there are new ones, that would be news to me. The Death Eaters have long perished with Voldemort and most are in seclusion," Xander had said.

"But how can you know where all of them are?" Ginny wanted to know.

"There are ways," Xander responded.

That was the end of the Death Eater discussion. As they moved onto the motives of the Legion of Light, Ginny found herself stumped. Here, Riley and Xander knew more than any of them. As ambassador to the States, Riley had a finger on the pulse of the local political movement and agreed that the Legion was most likely behind the kidnapping. There were a number of reasons, but she centered it around the thought that it would bring the UMW over to America for political bargaining. It was Hugh who interjected a different theory that sent chills down her spine.

"Wait a second," Hugh had said while he flipped through the dossier of Arthur's personal file, "Didn't your father like to tinker with Muggle things?"

"Yes."

"If they have wizards leading the Legion of Light, then it would make sense to take Arthur for his knowledge of blending magic and Muggle things. Think of all they could convince the unwashed masses if they could float a car."

"Hugh is right," Artemis sagely nodded. He had spoken infrequently during the conversation, "Arthur had a rare talent. Many times we asked him to join the Unspeakables, but he would not leave his family."

It brought a tear to Ginny's eye to hear Artemis say that and even now, they returned and she wiped them off her cheeks as she continued looking at the azure sky. More and more work was to be done, but the lack of contact from the Legion of Light was unnerving. Usually, the kidnapper would eventually contact them for a ransom, but no such connection had been made. If they didn't mean to let them know, there were much more sinister plans for her parents.

"Ginny! There you are!" Riley emerged onto the balcony, a harried look on her face.

"What is it?"

"The President is here. We're meeting with him in ten."

_So they finally let us meet him. It's no matter. If he helps us find my parents, then I can accept the wait_.

Perhaps the President had truly been busy, but Draco was under the impression that it was a purposeful snub not to meet him for a week after their arrival. Xander was of no help, constantly evading the question as to when they were going to meet the President and how much help they were going to offer them for the discovery and return of her parents. He seemed much more concerned about the Legion of Light's involvement than anything else.

They were on the tenth floor of the building and by the time Riley had found Ginny and subsequently returned, all of the party was already seated. As they entered, a handsome, black man stood from his seat and made his way over to her. Ginny took that time to examine him, seeing him for the first time in person. He was a bit taller than average height, having a few inches on Draco. He had an easy smile and crinkles around the corners of his eyes. As the President approached her, he gave a small smile and extended his hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco scowling, the marred side of his face twisting grotesquely as he did so. _What's he so mad about?_

"Mrs. Malfoy, I apologize profusely about your parents. I promise we will do everything in our power to ensure their safe return," he somberly opened.

"Why thank you, Mister President. It's very gracious of you to help us."

"Nonsense." He waved his hand dismissively. "It is our duty to help and cooperate with your…wizards. Any threat to you is a threat to us as well."

His words were chosen and precise, nary a hint of condescension in his voice. Perhaps Riley was right. Perhaps this President was different than the xenophobic last. She shivered as she remembered some of the previous conversations.

"I apologize as well, Mrs. Malfoy. I, too, hope for their swift return and justice for those who have committed this heinous crime." The Vice President didn't bother to rise out of his seat, simply apologizing from his place across the oval table.

"Thank you, Mr. Biden." It was a well known fact among the world that Biden was a Squib. No doubt his selection was a purposeful choice meant to bolster the President's future agenda.

"President Obama, if you could return, there is a lot to discuss," Xander requested.

"Of course."

Obama returned to his seat, coming to across the table to sit with Xander on his right and Biden on his left. His wife was absent from the meeting as it was contained to one of the highest clearances. Ginny took a seat next to Draco and absentmindedly squeezed his hand as she sat down. The rest of their team was seated next to them, across from the three Americans.

"My apologies, Mrs. Weasley. We're going to need your wand," Biden drawled.

_This is what Draco must be mad about_.

She begrudgingly placed her wand in the hand of one of the Secret Service. It had become commonplace to give up their wands when attending meetings with high ranking officials, but it still felt odd to her. Ginny felt naked and exposed without her wand. The vulnerability was not something she usually felt and probably attributed to her nervousness.

"Now," Obama cleared his throat once her wand had been taken, "Is there any new information concerning Arthur and Molly?"

_It's a good touch, saying their first names like he knows them. _

"Our assets on the ground have definitely had an intake of new information since the election. As you know, several of our scientists have quit and it is believed that a majority of them have joined this Legion of Light. Given Arthur Weasley's craft of Muggle-magical combination, the working theory is that they have kidnapped him not only for political gain, but for his familiarity with this area of magic."

"And this tinkering with…_Muggle_-" Obama said the word carefully, trying to leave out any distaste, "-objects. Could it turn into something dangerous?"

"Weapons, you mean? Yes, in theory, but I don't believe Arthur Weasley has that capability."

"My dad is capable of many things when you give him time. He made a car fly in one summer. What do you think he can do if they have my mother?" Ginny hotly asked.

Xander didn't miss a beat, continuing to flip through files in his manila envelope. "Our statisticians have placed an estimate probability and timeframe on a base level of Arthur's supposed knowledge. According to their calculations, it would take them just under a year to secure something akin to a flying car capable of sustained flight. Of course, if we had more cooperation with your wizard _scientists_, our estimates would be more accurate."

"Cars are a new invention," Artemis suddenly spoke up from the end of the table. "Why are you so worried about making it fly?"

"Because extrapolating that kind of process to something more dangerous would be troublesome for us. Imagine a gun that has enhanced bullets. You think Arthur could think of something like that? You're an Unspeakable, as they say, Artemis. What do you think?"

"What I think matters little. I am only suggesting that Arthur is stronger than what your _base_ _line_ says. He will do everything in his power to make sure none of that happens."

Ginny's heart swelled at Artemis' words. The two men had seen each other sparingly at the Ministry. At the time, Artemis was an Unspeakable and was rarely seen outside the Department of Mysteries, but it seemed the old man knew her father well. If Artemis believed that Arthur would hold up against what the Legion might have been demanding, she would believe it too.

"Regardless, I think we all believe that an increase of cooperation on both sides would lead to more information?" Obama offered. "Anything can bridge our worlds together will be immense and I think we can take this situation as an opportunity to work together to retrieve Mrs. Malfoy's parents."

"We _are_ working together," Draco pointed out, speaking for the first time. "There is only so much our Unspeakables know and funnily enough, they like to stick by their moniker."

His tone was challenging but placid, a veneer of a threat hidden underneath an explanation of their withholdings. Ginny knew that Draco simply didn't want to start down a slippery path. If they allowed Muggles access to their Unspeakables, who knows what they could ask for the next time?

Obama ignored the jibe and smiled pleasantly at Draco, his pearly white teeth flashing underneath the light. "I understand your hesitancy, but it is my goal to bring our worlds closer together. Already, I have plans to present a bill that would allow the inclusion of wizards and witches into normal schools and allow them to practice their magic there. An official recognition of the wizarding minority. Increased participation and integration between us and wizards. Together, President Malfoy, we can usher a new age of cooperation."

His presentation was impressive and to the point, hitting all the keys that he thought would be important to Draco. She looked at Draco out of the corner of her eye and couldn't read his expression. Is that what he wanted? A President that wasn't so afraid to deal with the UMW? Merlin only knows what the previous President had thought after the fiasco that was Nine-Eleven.

What followed next incurred varying reactions from the parties involved.

"I think that's a _horrible_ idea," Draco said.

To say Obama was surprised was an understatement.

He literally looked on the verge of choking his words, so surprised he was by Draco's vehement rejection of the proposed bill. Biden's eyes looked to be popping out of their sockets while Xander looked as cool and composed as always. To Ginny's right, Riley O'Reilley was halfway out of her seat, wanting to reproach Draco but not having the temerity to do so in front of the President of the United States. Keiran looked horribly amused while Artemis and Hugh sat back in their chairs, contemplating with their great minds.

"Come again?" Obama incredulously and rhetorically asked.

"I understand you want to…improve cooperation…but what you're asking for is far too much in far too little of time. Have you thought of the possible consequences of doing such a thing?"

"Of course he has," Biden interjected, "This bill will bring together all of the great people of America and we will be leading and paving the way for countries elsewhere to do the same. It is…it is…not a _horrible_ idea!"

"Are you prepared to lose a million jobs?"

"Why would we…"

Draco waved one hand in the air and all of the notebooks and pencils rearranged itself into tiny little stacks. The floor was polished and reflecting their very faces and every speck of dirt was gone.

"Even the weakest wizards can perform that spell. Not Squibs though," Draco added as an afterthought. Ginny could see Biden fuming and tried to give a silent signal to Draco for him to back off. Unfortunately, he didn't respond to her.

"Millions of commonplace jobs will be lost if you let wizards loose into the world. House Elves can do the job of your janitor a million times over at a far more efficient rate. Anything that requires transportation can be done at the drop of a hat with wizards that can Apparate locally. Any cleaning can be done with a wave of a wand, doing away with any notion of your…_garbage men_. There were _reasons_ we stayed hidden. If you insist on integrating our worlds, it must be done slowly and carefully. What you're proposing is letting the madhouse loose."

By the silence in the room, it was apparent that neither Obama or Biden had thought of the repercussions of their proposed bill. Ginny stole a glance at Xander and found the normal-looking man was unmoved as always. It was as if he expected this tirade from Draco. Her suspcions were confirmed as Xander spoke next.

Softly, he said, "I think President Malfoy may have legitimate points."

"Legitimate points I have as well," Obama said, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "You've held back this magic that has let the world starve and die. Genocide and starvation and disease all could have been easily avoided with just a wave of a wand, but I'm not condemning you of anything, President Malfoy. Please…let us just come together and hammer out a process that can integrate wizards into our every day lives."

Ginny could tell by Draco's grip on the table that he wasn't about to give in to the President's demands. Sensing a storm brewing ahead, she interjected with a small cough.

"I think what my husband is trying to say is that we should just take matters one step at a time. Too quickly and the scale will skew towards anarchy."

"Too slowly and we will miss this window of opportunity and let groups like this Legion of Light exploit wizards," Obama countered.

"If you propose this bill and Merlin forbid get it pushed through, you will only serve to expand the Legion's purpose," Draco said. "You must know that your country stands on the brink of a revolution! You can't possibly try and introduce this bill."

"It is the _right_ thing to do."

"You will split your country apart!"

Another silence fell over the group as Obama broke his usual veneer of politeness and complacency. The politician within him came to the forefront as he kept a steady gaze on Draco's maligned face. He was confident and unafraid, not willing to be bullied by the likes of a twenty-six year old who was called President for farce purposes.

"Mister President, I apologize for President Malfoy's arguments. The wizarding ways are deeply entrenched -" Riley tried to soothe over the heat, but Draco immediately interrupted her.

"You will _NOT _apologize for me. I stand firm by what I say and will publicly reject any proposal you bring forth," Draco said.

"The sheer arrogance," Biden sneered, "I know more and many of your kind, Malfoy. _Purebloods_ you are and it doesn't surprise me one bit that you don't want to share your magic. That's always been the way of your kind."

"Joe, you will remain polite and respectful towards _President_ Malfoy. I will not have this to turn into some kindergarten argument," Obama immediately corrected his second in command. "President Malfoy, I would advise against any public declaration against this bill. It is the _right_ thing to do and that I know with all my heart. Marginalizing and not realizing the full potential of wizards will not keep America on top."

"Despite what your Vice might think, I am trying to help you. If you propose this bill, Mister President, it is only a matter of time before the Legion and other of their ilk come to arms against you. Do you want to be the President that incited a Civil War?"

"Abraham Lincoln was said to incite a Civil War. If I remember correctly, it was for the right reason," Obama coolly responded.

"Do not think of us as slaves that need to be freed. We are far more dangerous than you are."

Biden came to his feet, pushing against the table and scraping the chair against the magically waxed and polished floor. "IS THAT A THREAT?"

"JOE, SIT DOWN OR ELSE I WILL THROW YOU OUT MYSELF," Obama roared at the top of his lungs.

Biden turned towards the President with a loathing in his eyes. "I will not stand by and take threats from this Pureblood supremacist. He is playing you for a fool and should have never been this sham of a President in the first place. He has no power and no hold over you. How can you sit here and listen to his threats?"

"Because he is not threatening us," Obama's gaze was iron and steel and Ginny almost thought that he used the Imperious to bring Biden back to his seat. "He means to warn us but vastly underestimates America's acceptance. This bill will not have the consequences you think it will, President Malfoy."

"For your sake, I hope not."

In the midst of that argument, Xander Boggarts kept flipping through his papers, unperturbed by the shouting Vice President or the seething Presidents.

"On the matter of the Weasleys…"

* * *

The rest of the meeting never rose to the heights of the discussion of Obama's proposed bill. Most of it was concentrated on formulating a game plan to retrieve the Weasley elders. Xander and Keiran both offered their insights given their positions, but they didn't make a lot of headway. While the President seemed sympathetic, Ginny sensed his heart wasn't as in to finding her parents as it was getting the approval for this bill from Draco.

Draco, on the other hand, poured meticulously over any leads the might have had. It warmed her heart to see him so determined to find her parents when he didn't even have his own. Perhaps it was this loss that drove him so. Ginny decided to reward him later for his efforts but before she could do so, Draco summoned the rest of them after their meeting the United States President adjourned.

"I figured we might need some outside help so I made a few calls," Draco informed them.

He led them to a back room of the floor they were on. Secret service guarded all entrances and the now standard Anti-Apparition and other protection wards were erected around them in an invisible barrier. They took up the entire floor, separated into bedrooms and conference rooms. Draco led them to the smallest one and opened the door and Ginny gasped when she saw who was inside.

"Ron!" she half-cried, half-screamed.

She jumped into her older brother's arms, trying as hard as she could not to break into tears. It was difficult to do so and she relished the familiar smell and feel of his arms wrapping around her. He soothed easing words into her ear as he rubbed her back, promising they would find their parents.

"What are - what are you doing here?" Ginny finally asked after she pulled away from him.

"Draco invited me." Ron nodded at her husband.

Draco, true to form, ignored the significant token and went around to shake what could be considered his friend's hand.

"Thanks for coming, Nott."

"I came as soon as I heard evil psychopaths were involved," Nott answered solemnly.

"And I've heard you've already gone and pissed off the President," Samson rose with some difficulty, his belly swelling with age.

"To be fair, I did warn him it was a horrible idea."

"That's the crazy man I know." Samson gave a large grin as he clasped hands with Draco and shook his heartily.

Samson turned to her, his big smile fading a little bit and the light diminishing from his eyes. "I'm deeply sorry lass. We'll find your parents, trust us on that."

"And I know you'll try your damn hardest." Ginny swallowed the waviness in her voice to at least sound the smallest bit of courageous.

"Theodore Nott," Hugh stepped forward, "Nice to meet you. I'm Hugh Washington."

"And Hugh are?" Nott asked with a wiry grin.

Hugh laughed at the joke. "I'm with Draco's team. Muggle liaison if you will."

"A Muggle?" Nott turned to Draco. "Carrying Muggles around, are we? I must admit I've grown rather fond of them."

"This one's smarter than Granger used to be."

"Well, if we ever find her, perhaps we can put that to the test."

A guilty twinge broke inside Ginny at the mention of her friend's name. None of them could know what she knew, but a part of her wanted to tell them. It seemed more relevant than ever since this Legion of Light had emerged. But she couldn't tell them. Not just yet…

"Are we doing this ourselves then?" Ginny asked, putting the pieces together.

"I don't trust Xander. There's things I'd rather not discuss with him." Draco's mouth moved but his eyes said something else as he looked at Ginny. _There's still the mole to worry about_.

She subtly nodded her head. _I know_.

In all honesty, she didn't have as much of a clue as to who it could possibly be. If Xander really insinuated. that it was someone on their team, they would be hard pressed to find who. Each of them were solid and reliable and none of them seemed like the type to be a traitor. Still…someone had to know about the agents they were trying to send inside the Legion and someone had to break the wards that were placed around the Burrow to protect her mother and father. Whoever did so would pay the price of a Weasley gone wrong.

Her initial suspicion led her towards Keiran or even Hugh but they seemed far too invested in finding her parents. Still, it could be a cover, disguising their over intent as a mask to keep her parents hidden. If it wasn't someone paying close attention, perhaps it was someone who seemed rather disinterested. Security and dangerous missions weren't Riley's specialty, but she still seemed more concerned with the disastrous meeting with President Obama. Afterwards, she couldn't stop giving withering glares to Draco. Draco ignored her. Then there was Artemis and Hugh, contemplative but never taking any sides.

She pushed all thoughts of moles and traitors out of her head, concerning herself with that facet _after_ they could find her parents. If finding her parents would lead them to the mole, it would just be a bonus.

"What's the plan, then?" she asked.

"I think we need to hit the ground ourselves," Draco said.

"Go down to Georgia? We'll stick out like sore thumbs," Ron replied, knowing a bit more of the American culture than others since he had been America for quite some time now.

"Perhaps. But we are wizards. Maybe that will give us some lee way into finding your parents."

As Ron opened his mouth to childishly argue, the door creaked open again and Xander stepped in, completely unaware or uncaring that he had stepped in a private meeting.

"Xander, this isn't for you," Draco growled.

"It is not, but I think it is time I revealed why you were brought here even before Ginny and Ron's parents were kidnapped," Xander said in a bland tone.

"And who is this bloke?" Ron pointed at the diminituive man.

"Xander Boggarts." He thrust out his hand awkwardly, unblinking eyes staring up at Ron's lean frame.

"Ron Weasley," Ron hesitantly replied.

"I know."

Xander stepped towards the table and the path cleared for him automatically. Ginny wanted to know what he did to do that. It was quite the talent to separate crowds without a word or intimidation. He flipped open the manila envelope to a specific page with what looked to be an enlarged photograph. Nott was the closest.

"What's this supposed to be?" His tone was angry and accusing, eyes snatching up to meet Xander's.

As Ginny approached the picture, a pit of dread rose in her stomach as she saw the outlines of the face and the crease of the eyebrow. Her heart plummeted, a rock wedged into her throat so tight that she could hardly breath. It was the previous morning all over again, hands around her neck suffocating her.

"Boggarts, what is this?" Draco echoed the question, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked at the grey and white and black photograph.

"This picture was taken a week ago."

_A week?_

A collective gasp was heard around the room and even the ever unmovable Artemis took a step back at the declaration.

_But it can't!_

"I thought this was important enough to bring you over here. He was spotted with the other known members of the Legion. We ran several pattern confirmations and they all unanimously agree."

"No," Ron growled through gritted teeth, "No. It's…not…_NO!"_

"I'm afraid the answer is yes, Mister Weasley."

One look at the lightning bolt shaped scar on the forehead told Ginny all she needed to know.

"Neville…"

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Bogey."

"Bats? Why are you calling? Is this line secure?"

"Yes, it's secure."

"But…but this isn't scheduled. We're not supposed to hear from you for another…three months!"

"I know when I'm supposed to call in, but this is _important_, dammit!"

"What is it? Is everyone okay? I've heard…"

"Yes, but that's not what it concerns. Is the child safe?"

"Of course. Just finished up sixth grade. He's remarkable."

"But _safe_? Unharmed and unknown?"

"Not a peep from what we know."

"You and Tobias need to leave."

"Leave? But we've just gotten settled here. Bats, I don't think that's a good idea for Edr -"

"Don't say his name! You need to leave now."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me why."

"John, now is not the time for this. There are other important factors at play and it's only a matter of time before they go after the boy's mother."

"His mother? But his mother is off the grid. They won't be able to find her."

"And if they do? If they find her and they torture her and they realize she has a son? What do you think they are going to do?"

"And why would they want _him_? What purpose is he to them?"

"He didn't mean anything now, but things have changed. A new player has entered the game."

"Whose the new player?"

"The lightning bolt."

"The lightning bolt is dead."

"Apparently, _dead_ isn't what it used to mean."

"You can't possibly be serious."

"Would I be calling you if I _WEREN'T?_"

"Bats, I can't believe this. The lightning bolt has been dead for years."

"And I'm telling you that I saw a picture taken of him from a week ago. The lightning is back and he means to strike the same place twice. You need to take the boy and _RUN!_"

"Bats."

"Tobias. Thank Merlin. You need to go now."

"We can't leave just now. There is work and training to be done."

"Fuck your training and sod your work. Did you not hear what I just told John? The lightning bolt is back."

"We can not run forever. If he wants to find us, he will find us."

"But I would prefer it if you were at least running when he finds you."

"Temper, temper, Bats."

"Just shut up and go, Tobias. Go before things go to shit even more than they are now."

"He won't like it."

"I don't give a damn. He needs to be taken away. Low profile."

"And his mother?"

"I'm going to try and lead the investigation to her. Hopefully we can reel her in before they get to her."

"How long can this go on, Bats? You're going to need to tell someone eventually."

"She promised me not to tell anyone. Cursed me is more like it, that dumb, genius bitch. She had the plan as soon as she realized he was starting to show. The lightning bolt mustn't know the boy exists. If he does…"

"I understand. We will leave soon."

"I hope to not hear from you again. Good luck, Tobias. Tell John and the boy the same."

"Will do."

"Tobias, wait! Is he…how is _he_?"

"Too much like his father for my liking. It's tempered with his mother's genius but thankfully lacks her insufferableness. He is well. Well as can be after what he's gone through."

"Good…I was afraid I didn't make the right choice."

"At the time, you didn't. Now…this boy is special, Bats."

"I know. It's why you have to go."

"Understood."

* * *

The phone clicked silent and Ginny laid it gently back into the cradle of the receiver. She was in an empty and abandoned room in one of lone buildings in New York. Finding a secure line was a bitch and she had to call in some favors, but eventually it went through. One could only hope that enough of the conversation was deciphered so they wouldn't know the identities. Even if they managed to discover the identities, she didn't say a word about the location. An early warning would give them precious time against….Neville.

"Faron, we can go back now," Ginny called out.

Faron stepped into the light, nodding ever so slightly as incinerated the phone receiver. Taking her by the elbow, Draco's personal assistant escorted her out of the building. Draco was in a meeting with Nott and Samson and wouldn't know about Ginny's secret call. It was for the best for now.

As they stepped through the revolving door of the unfinished building, Faron unfolded an umbrella so they could walk the three blocks down the street to their building. They passed by the rapid and magical reconstruction of the World Trade Center. As a show of cooperation, the UMW decided to use their magical capabilities to rebuild the two towers into four smaller towers in record time. Only a few furnishings remained and the towers would be complete.

The rain drops splattered against the umbrella and Ginny kept close to Faron. To anyone else, it simply looked like a rich woman and her assistant or even boyfriend guiding her along the road. Hopefully, that was _all_ it looked like.

"There's a storm coming," Ginny whispered softly as she looked up between rain drops.

"Is it coming or is it going?" Faron squinted upwards to determine a direction.

"I don't know. Both, I think."

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter is Harry-centric. Apologies for the delay. Meant to get this out on Sunday but life took over. Next chapter should be out on Sunday on scheduled.**

**Notes and references:**

**-The last bit of dialogue is from the TV show Homeland**

**-Confirmed answers for those who guess who John and Tobias are**

**-I don't care if you don't think it's funny, I laughed at my Hugh joke for hours**

**-Reviews are always welcome**


	8. Through The Fire

Hermione only passed out for a moment but the second she went down, Harry rushed to her side and picked up her head, trying to revive her. He remembered the sound of her voice, calling out to him that he could still do…what?

_Come back to me, Hermione. _

Leaning down while he gently cradled her head, he kissed her lightly on the lips, foolishly thinking that he could wake her up. Lo and behold, her eyes fluttered open, pupils dilating as she reoriented herself from her sudden unconsciousness.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I think you fainted at the sight of me," Harry murmured.

"You're not that pretty."

He helped her sit up, concern still etched on his face as he retrieved water and shoved it into her hand. Not taking no for an answer, he urged her to drink, mindful of the sudden bouts of dehydration that could take over in an instant in this heat. He checked her wound, cutting the gauze with the scissors that were somehow on the floor. Hermione was quiet the whole time, watching him intently.

"Are you okay?" He finally asked after redressing the wound.

"I think I'm fine. It must have just been the heat or the cut." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked skeptically. "You were trying to tell me something before you passed out. What is…what can I still do?"

"So you didn't see it," she mumbled, mostly to herself.

"See what?"

Harry sometimes hated it when she did this. Her mind moved so rapidly from one subject to the other that there was some inherent difficulty in voicing all of her thoughts. That's not to say she wasn't good at communicating. He would always remember her efforts to help him improve his spell work, but sometimes she would get lost in her own mumbling world, leaving the rest of their decidedly lesser computational brains behind.

"Hermione," Harry said with a hint of impatience.

"It has to be…"

"What has to be?"

"Harry." She looked up at him, her eyes hopeful and said, "I think you can still do magic."

Hopes of performing a simple Summoning Charm leapt back up but just as quickly as it came, he shot it down. The despair of not being able to cast a simple spell still hadn't worn off him and while he trusted Hermione's genius, there was an inkling of desperation in her voice as well.

"What are you talking about? You saw what happened the other day. I can't perform any spells," he said.

"But you can! You were levitating the scissors while you were looking for it. You must have done it subconsciously, but it proves your magic _exists_!"

Her words hit him like a charging Hippogriff. A shining knife of brightness slicing through the black pain that was his…Muggle-ness. It shamed him that he thought of it that way but without magic, he felt like nothing.

"Can we try it again?" Harry licked his lips, eager with anticipation and readily dismissing Hermione's faint condition.

"I suppose we can do a test." She lifted the scissors off the ground and said, "Here. Try levitating this again. Don't say anything. Just…envision it."

_That's not so hard_. Though there were words and wand movements one usually had to do to perform a spell, Harry always did envision it in his head as it happened. He could still remember the magic in his hands as he performed certain spells that didn't require a wand. Then again, even that magic wasn't enough. Voldemort was so much stronger than he could have imagined.

Still, he looked at the object, remembering the first time he willfully performed wandless magic. He brought himself back to that classroom, condemned to a wheelchair. The room seemed to dim around him and he imagined the scissors rising into the air, floating on nothingness.

Yet, nothing happened.

Frustrated, he stuck out his hand, urging it to rise. Usually, when he would use his wandless magic, he mimicked the motion with his hands. While he wasn't certain that it helped, it had always worked before. At least, it worked after his sudden magical power surge. It was to no avail, however, as the scissors stayed stubbornly put in Hermione's hand.

"Interesting…" Hermione murmured.

"I find nothing about this interesting," Harry said glumly.

"We've attempted magic with a wand and without a wand, with you concentrating both times. I wonder if there's a way to test you when you're not concentrating?"

"How can you test a way to see if I do magic while I'm not concentrating? By thinking about it in the first place, I'm already concentrating."

"Not when you were looking for the scissors," she countered, "Then, you were distracted and weren't thinking about it. You're right, we can't replicate the situation in a setting, but if I keep a look out for it…"

"What's the point if it stops working the moment I concentrate on it?"

"Maybe it needs time to grow back. Magical cores are a finicky thing and perhaps this is just a sign that you will become stronger in time," Hermione offered.

How Harry hoped she was right. Hopelessness and despair were the two feelings that overtook him when he first realized his absence of magic and the only thing that had brought him out of that gloom was killing those thugs. The weight of the gun in his hands and the snap of the shot brought him alive, but he couldn't tell this to Hermione. Changed she was, but to what extent, he still didn't know.

"So what do we do to trigger it?" he asked.

"We do…nothing," Hermione sighed. "We should probably talk to Auguria. The batty witch might know something."

They agreed to talk to the old sorceress at first light, dedicating the rest of the night to resting after their trying ordeal. That night, Harry made sure not to sleep too close to her, fearful of aggravating her wound. It was only now that he remembered her faintness and subsequent unconsciousness. Vowing to keep the wound clean, he reminded himself to change the dressing that morning.

Harry awoke, sweaty as always in the insufferable heat, and immediately checked the gauze on Hermione's shoulder. She was still asleep, her short cropped hair covering her eyes as she snored slightly. He took a moment to examine her face, tranquil for once. Since he returned, she always seemed so on edge, on the brink of exhaustion. He could only imagine the ordeal she had gone through to bring him back, but nothing was worth her constant pain.

The pads of his fingers traced over her long, thin eyebrows, his thumb swiping the edge of them. She didn't move, only snuggling close towards him. He avoided any contact, mindful of her shoulder as he continued to gaze upon her face. The dark circles around her eyes made them look even more sunken in. He knew that the only make-up she applied on a general basis was eyeliner and perhaps it helped disguise the dark circles, but under this light he could see them clearly. It was her hair that changed the shape of her head the most, revealing its ovalness and exposing the pale, smooth skin of her neck. Tempering his desires, however, he slowly crept out of the bed, throwing on a loose white t-shirt.

After rechecking the wound one more time - the scar was quickly fading, leaving only a bright pink slash - he exited their hut and stepped outside, embracing the strong smells of sun and dust. Some of the village was already awake, as was their custom when they needed to tend to their crops. He caught eyes with Santana and the teenage girl quickly ducked her head. Her brother, as always, was right beside her and immediately bounded over to him.

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry watched his sister trail behind him, watching Harry carefully. It only took a second to decipher her expression.

_She's scared of me. As she should be_, Harry thought. Still, he put a smile on his face and crouched down so he was eye level with Juan. The little boy smiled, his white teeth clashing against his tanned skin.

"Are you a wizard too? They say you aren't, but if Jeanne is a witch and you're Jeanne's friend, you have to be a wizard!" Juan's words flew out of his mouth in an excited ramble.

"I -" Harry paused, the words hanging in midair. _What am I, really?_

"He is not," Santana said firmly, bravely making eye contact with him.

"I'm not," Harry repeated slowly. "Just Jeanne is."

"Oh." Juan's shoulders sagged as if he was a balloon deflated. "That was still cool though. It was just like the movies. Bang! Bang!"

Juan imitated shooting a gun, striking down the invisible enemies in the distance. While Harry laughed for the boy's expense, the look on Santana's face was much darker. The little boy didn't fully understand the intent behind Harry's actions, only seeing him as a heroic defender of the village. Santana knew better and what he was trying to accomplish. Evidently, she disagreed.

Coming to his feet and straightening, Harry looked at the teenage girl in the eye and wasn't surprised when she immediately balked in her presence. _Looks like I still have it_.

"Just make sure those bad men don't harm this village, Juan." Harry patted the boy on his shoulder, sending him and his sister on their way.

Harry kept his gaze on them as they went off, knowing Santana would turn around one more time to cast a disapproving glare at him. As he expected, she turned and he kept eye contact with her, trying to communicate with her wordlessly. _I'm just trying to help you_.

She startled, shaking her head as she narrowed her eyes at him. Juan pulled her arm, asking her what was wrong, but she couldn't tear her eyes off Harry. The shock on her face confused Harry and he wondered why she was so startled.

"Harry?"

Hermione's voice broke their staring contest as he pivoted on his foot to find Hermione tugging a light jacket around her tank top. It would do no good to expose the wound, though covered, in this dusty environment so she would have to bear some of the heat with the jacket.

"You're up. Ready to see Auguria?"

Hermione nodded, immediately linking hands as they set off to the isolated hut at the edge of the village. Auguria had not accompanied them to the town, too elderly and honestly lazy to do so. The village would take care of her because she was one of the _Brujeria_, but for the most part, they wanted nothing to do with the old witch.

Just as before, they found her cross legged on the ground, smiling at them as they entered. The gaps in her teeth were still there and Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he was going to be lectured again. Still, answers were needed and he could stand the presence of this supposed Seer just a little while longer if she could give them.

"I've heard the Phoenix has been busy," she opened.

Harry could only roll his eyes, tired of the nicknames. "And I've heard the Crazy Bat is still cooped up in her house."

"Such anger. You were not always this way. Once you were shy…and timid."

_Well played, Seer._ Whenever he was about to dismiss her as a loony, she would always come back with something like that. Something that couldn't possibly be known unless one had extraordinary powers.

"Since you're able to look at the past, do you mind telling us something about the future?" Hermione asked the question, the sardonic tone interlacing the words.

"The past is easy. The past has happened. The future…hmm…not so much. But ask and perhaps I will know."

"Harry still has magic." Hermione was as direct as ever, that much hadn't changed. "He can only use it when he doesn't pay attention. Why is that? Is it going to come back to him?"

Auguria cast her eyes on Harry and he refused to squirm under her gaze. He had felt more powerful wizards and witches than her, but he felt oddly naked under her stare.

"Perhaps all is not as lost as I feared it would be. Something is still in there, _si_? Then, it is just a matter of coaxing it out."

"But how do we do that?" Harry wanted to know.

"I do not know _this_. I have gifts and talents, but these are out of my power. All I can do is See and Say. I can not bring your magic out," Auguria said sadly.

"But you know someone who can?" Hermione picked up on the implication in the old woman's voice.

"There are others in the _Brujeria _who posses different talents. Perhaps there is one that can help you, _si_?"

"Tell me where to find them," Harry commanded.

"So different," Auguria murmured, "But if it is what you want, then I know. There is one, Sempra the Seer, they call her."

"I thought you were a Seer?" Hermione asked.

Auguria shook her head, the shawls around her body shifting ever so slightly. "I can only _see_. It is a different thing to be a Seer. They have powers that I do not and will never have. Their branch is rare and difficult to comprehend, leaving those who do _know_ a little bit…"

"…crazy," Harry finished.

"Not crazy," Auguria shook her head again, "Just…different."

"She wouldn't happen to be close, would she?" Harry sarcastically quipped.

"She is just three day's journey from here. One if you knew where you were going."

"Apparition, you mean?"

"You call it that. Unfortunately, I've never learned the art and without knowing, you will have to walk the path to the mountain."

"Can you not show us the way?" Hermione questioned.

"I am an old woman, Hermione. I'm afraid my place is here," Auguria smiled with her gapped teeth, but there was a definite hint of melancholy in her voice.

"If you aren't taking us, how are we going to get there?" Harry was tired of this old woman's games. _Seers are always the worst. I've never heard of a good prophecy. Where's the prophecy that says everyone will live?_

"Mavan will know the way. Ask him and he can take you."

They begrudgingly thanked her and Harry was glad to be out of that stuffy hut. There was a certain amount of derision he held for Seers or whatever Auguria was. Sure, they were content on announcing the imminent death of others, but it was Harry and company that had to sacrifice in order to achieve what was necessary. And then, after all that, look what happened to Neville.

"I'm not that comfortable asking Mavan to come with us. That drug cartel is certain to retaliate and I don't want to leave them defenseless." Hermione voiced her concerns after their meeting with Auguria.

"What's Mavan going to do versus a gang of thugs? He's just one person, Hermione. You have enough wards and charms around here to make sure none of those drug lords find them. Besides, you're more useful than me or Mavan. Why don't you stay and Mavan can take me to this Sempra the Seer."

"No," Hermione rejected the idea immediately, "I'm coming with you."

"Then, it's settled. We ask Mavan."

Again, as Harry expected, Mavan immediately balked when he heard the name Sempra.

"She's another of the _Brujeria_, but different and you want to see her?" Mavan said in his thick accent. "Why would you want to do that?"

Not wanting to explain the reasons why, Hermione pleaded, "Please, Mavan. We must see her. It's important for Harry."

Mavan looked at Harry, eyeing the younger man. There was respect and admiration in his eyes, that much Harry could see, but much of the same fear Santana had as well. Harry didn't know whether it was related to his resurrection or the events in the town, but if he had to take a guess, the second one was somehow the event that scared them more.

"Please," Hermione begged, bringing out her best pleading face. _I can't say no to that. How can anyone else?_

And Mavan caved, but not without some uncharacteristic grumbling from the normally complacent man. Complacent probably wasn't the right words. Accepting. He accepted her proposal, but disagreed with her reasons. He wanted to be here, with the village in case any of the drug lords came back, but Hermione couldn't explain that there were Notice-Me-Not charms and various other spells used to protect them. Short of a Fidelius, it was secure from any Muggles passing by.

They packed food for three day's journey. Once they were there, Hermione could easily Side-Apparate them along. At first, Harry protested, citing her injury, but Hermione pointed out that it would be healed at the end of their three day journey. Thus, they only packed emergency food for one more day. If worse came to worse, Mavan had lived off the lands for quite a while and they would be able to survive on slightly emptier stomachs on the way back.

"Sempra is this way," Mavan grumbled, trudging towards the direction of the mountain range. Harry could have sworn he heard the big man mumble something that definitely resembled _locos_.

"Jeanne! Let me go with you, _please_! I want to see some more magic!" Juan followed them along, begging and falling to his knees.

"Juan!" Santana ran after him.

Hermione sighed and knelt down to pick Juan off the ground. He sagged in her arms, purposely making himself dead weight. Hermione kept going until he was on his feet and looked him in the eye.

"I don't do a lot of magic now, Juan, but I promise to do some when we come back. Is that okay?"

Juan bit his lip and looked up at Harry. "Make her promise. She does everything you say, so make her promise."

Harry laughed while Hermione's jaw dropped. Winking at her, he said, "Promise it to him, Hermione."

She looked at him incredulously, her expression telling him that he would pay for it later. Oh well, it was worth it.

"I promise, Juan."

By that time, Santana had caught up and succeeded at tugging Juan back towards the village. Hermione and Mavan had already set forth on their march, but Harry kept an eye on Santana and lingered behind. She looked at him carefully as if she were judging him. The words she spoke next shocked him.

"The drug lords always say they are trying to help, too."

_How could she…_

"Harry!" Hermione called out. "Come on!"

He automatically turned his head to Hermione's voice and replied that he was coming. As he turned to address Santana, he found that the girl was already halfway back to the village, too far to call out to.

"What was that?" Hermione asked when he caught up.

"Nothing," Harry answered.

_But everything_.

* * *

The travel was easy going, Hermione used to walking on rough terrain from her years perusing the world. Harry, or rather the body, was rather out of shape but he braved through, ignoring the pain in his side and the creaking of his knees.

_I need to get in shape_. He vowed to do so when he returned, wanting to keep his body sharp and in tune. It would be no use to be slow and worthless. In some ways, Harry's mind was still in the War of the Dark Tower and he had to constantly remind himself that dark wizards weren't ready to jump out at him out of nowhere.

There was a sloped path that started up the mountain and even Mavan directed them to rest at some points of the day to get some of their water and eat. It was easy to get dehydrated in the humid weather even if they felt like they were soaked in their own sweat. There were many dangers in the jungles.

"People get scared of many things out here, but most people die because they have no water," Mavan explained.

At nights, Harry made sure to apply a fresh spat of gauze for Hermione's wound and she was correct in her assessment. By the end of the second day, they could remove the gauze and all that was left was a thin scar. The magic she used must have healed it very quickly.

Hermione prodded with some questions about Sempra, but Mavan always answered with vagueness and mumbles. It seemed like Auguria, Mavan didn't like talk about this Sempra. Whatever association the _Brujeria_ had, Mavan was definitely not a fan of them. Not that Harry could blame him. In a short span, he had seen a dead man come back to life and then a drug cartel attack fended off by a witch and that same dead man. It was enough to make anyone suspicious.

The wind howled as they climbed what had to be an artificially made path up the mountain. It was too smoothed over, avoiding any off the sudden cliffs and trappings of the mountain side. The incline strained the shins, but other than that, there were no other dangers to speak of. On the third day, the mountain path evened out and Mavan halted as the path came to a sudden end, leading to the mouth of a cave.

"Is this it?" Hermione asked.

"_Si_, Sempra is there."

Hermione immediately walked forwards, disregarding any danger that could be lurking in the shadows of the cave. Harry wondered if her thirst for knowledge had ever gotten her in any other kind of trouble. Surely, in their time at Hogwarts, Neville, Hermione, and Ron must have broken several rules. Harry started forward, a few paces behind Hermione and noticed that Mavan had not moved.

"Are you coming?"

The Latino man shook his head. "I will stay here."

Harry looked back at him and the disappearing form of Hermione into the cave. While there was probably nothing to fear, and little he could do without a weapon, Harry didn't want her to venture too far without him.

"We'll be back as soon as we can."

"I will pray for you."

_Now that's an odd thing to say_. Harry quickened his pace, stretching out his legs as he caught up to Hermione. As he walked into a cave, a torch suddenly came alight, confirming any thought they had that Sempra was a witch.

"Neat trick," Harry murmured.

"Area trigger spell," Hermione responded, "Not that neat."

_Never one to be out done_, Harry thought wryly. He said nothing though, not wanting to irk her. The tenseness that didn't exist in her sleep returned as she marched into the darkness, the torch held high into the air. The cave was taller than he thought it would be. Reasoning that they were at the tip of the mountain Harry thought the Sempra person would surely dwell no farther than a few hundred feet within the cave. Any farther and they would emerge on the other side of the cliff face.

They entered a bigger cavern, the walls stretching out on either side of them until the light of the fire lost them. Harry turned to her, unsure as to which direction they should go. Hermione looked just as confused, biting her lip as she usually did when she didn't know an answer to a question. It was a rare but easy tell.

"Forward, I suppose?"

"I don't really think there's another way."

She took one step forward and a light suddenly came ablaze behind them. Harry was already turning around to see who had cast it when a voice screamed out in the darkness.

"_DO NOT TURN AROUND!"_

The words were yelled with such ferocity that Harry actually froze on the spot, fearful of completing his turn. Slowly, he moved back around until his back was to the fire. Hermione didn't move, only looking at him sideways.

_What do we do?_ She mouthed.

"_DO NOT MOVE!"_

It was more of a command than a threat, but Harry didn't like having his back exposed to this person. Friend or foe, though, there was nothing he could do but obey for now. Wandless and without a gun, all of his trust lay in Hermione's skills if this Sempra wasn't who they thought it would be. Then again, why would Auguria lie to them? _Is this why Mavan said he would pray for me?_

"_WHO ARE YOU?"_

The voice yelled again, the echoes reverberating in the large cavern.

"I'm Harry Potter and this is Hermione Granger. Auguria said you could help us."

"_AUGURIA? THE OLD WITCH LIVES?"_

"Yes and if you could stop yelling and let us turn around for a second…"

"_DO NOT TURN!"_

"And I guess not…"

"_IF YOU TURN, YOU WILL NOT SEE AND IF AUGURIA HAS SENT YOU HERE, THEN THERE MUST BE SOMETHING TO BE SEEN."_

_Fucking brilliant_, Harry thought. It was bad enough that this woman was hollering at them with their backs turned to this fire, but she just had to speak in riddles. _Seers are the worst_.

"_WHAT IS YOUR BUSINESS?"_

"Sempra, if we could…" Hermione started to turn, just as tired of the games as he. As she did so, the fire suddenly roared, the flames licking high into the air.

"_IF YOU TURN, I WILL BE GONE AND YOUR ANSWERS WILL FLOW TO THE WIND."_

"How convenient," Hermione added dryly.

Harry rolled his eyes again but as he did so, he caught the far wall of the cave and saw the shadows that were being cast. He could see his own shadow and Hermione's but in between them, there was another shadow. It had the shape of a woman with hair cascading to her waist. Unlike their shadows though, hers was more distinctive and less shapeless.

_There is magic here, no doubt to that_. Suddenly, Harry didn't want to turn. He nudged Hermione's hand, getting her attention and looking at the woman's shadow. Hermione noticed it and squinted, trying to analyze the meaning behind the shadow like she usually did.

"_YOU BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND_."

"No, but I won't turn if you say I shouldn't."

"_IF YOU DO, YOU WILL NOT KNOW AND YOU HAVE TO COME TO KNOW._"

Sempra's voice was still loud and shrill, several decibels higher than needed, but Harry accepted their position for the time being. There were more pressing concerns than the wishes of a mad Seer.

"Do you know how to bring back magic?" Harry didn't know any other way to phrase the question.

"_MAGIC IS NEVER LOST, BUT THERE IS DIFFICULTY IN RETURNING. YOUR AURA IS STRANGE, HARRY POTTER. WILL YOU ALLOW ME?"_

"Do I really have a choice?"

"_A CHOICE, THERE ALWAYS IS THOUGH SOMETIMES A CHOICE IS A NECESSITY RATHER THAN AN OPTION."_

At this, Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's a fancy way of saying he doesn't really have a choice."

"_A CHOICE, THERE ALWAYS IS."_

Sempra apparently took that as a yes and Harry could suddenly see a burst of light surrounding his body. It was golden and tattered, shimmering around him like a great cloak. There were massive spots in this golden cloak and Harry reached out his hands to touch it, marveling at the display.

To his left, Hermione suddenly came alight as well although her aura was a light blue. Unlike Harry's, hers was complete and surrounded her body except for a tether that stretched out and coiled with a wisp of Harry's golden impression. Blue and gold came together, linked tightly at several intervals until the strand became a mesh of the two colors.

"_IT SEEMS YOU ARE LINKED AND STRONGLY IT IS. BLOOD MAGIC THIS IS."_

It was Hermione who asked the question that Harry had, reading him like a book. "Why does his aura have so many holes?"

"_HE IS NOT WHOLE. THE FISSURES YOU SEE ARE UNNATURAL. DARK MAGIC."_

It didn't take Hermione to figure out what this dark magic could possibly be. No matter what either of them though, reviving someone from the dead couldn't be considered Light Magic. There were too many sacrifices to be made in order to consider it that. Take his body for example.

"_BUT I WONDER…"_

The lights shifted and the blue started to coil tighter around the gold. Harry felt a surge _within_ him as the blue light raced along their connection and started filling the patches where the golden aura was missing. Harry could literally feel the magic coursing through him and that's what perhaps distracted him from Hermione's sudden cry of pain.

He looked to her left and she was suddenly kneeling on the ground, clutching her head tightly. She moaned and dug her nails into her cheeks, harsh, red lines running down her face. Harry noticed a dimness in her blue light.

"Stop it! Stop it!"

At once, the blue patches in his golden cloak raced along their connection and Hermione's aura was suddenly brighter and fuller. Her hands left her head, bracing herself against the ground and Harry kneeled beside her, cupping her chin in his hand.

"Hermione, are you okay?" He asked, looking into her eyes for any lie.

She couldn't lie to him there, not so close to him. The pain was too evident in her eyes. Still, she said, "I'm fine."

"You're not." Harry frowned. His back was still turned to Sempra and he straightened, deciding to address her shadow against the back wall.

"What was that that you did? Why did Hermione fall like that?"

"_GREAT POWER YOU HAVE, BUT IT IS MISSING. YOU DRAW FROM HER, BUT AS YOU DO, YOU DRAIN HER."_

It took a couple of seconds and Harry was sure Hermione had already figured it out, but once he did, his jaw dropped open in horror. One look at Hermione confirmed that she already knew or had suspected the cause of his magical outburst earlier.

"No," Harry said in a shaky voice, "I won't do that. I don't care if I'm a Squib, I won't do that."

"There has to be a way." She was looking at him, but Harry knew she was pleading with Sempra. "There has to be a way. Maybe I can give him some of mine…"

"_NO!" _Harry said forcefully.

"_HE IS RIGHT, HERMIONE GRANGER. YOU CANNOT GIVE. HE CAN ONLY TAKE_."

"I don't want to _take_. Just severe this connection. Please!"

"_THIS, I CAN NOT DO EITHER_."

"Then what can you do?"

"_I HAVE SHOWN YOU HOW YOU CAN GET YOUR MAGIC BACK. OF THIS, I CAN ONLY SHOW_."

Harry couldn't believe what had to be done, but he would _never_ do what Sempra was saying. Even though Hermione was pleading with him to do so, he could detect a hint of fear in her. Losing one's magic was a cost that shook even those on the most rigid of courses. He would not take even a fraction of her magic, not if he could help it.

"No. It's a no, then," Harry said in a shaky voice, making sure Hermione knew that he knew what he was commanding.

"_A CHOICE, THERE ALWAYS IS. MORE MUST BE ASKED OF YOU, PHOENIX."_

"Again, with the Phoenix?" Harry joked weakly, trying to smile at the disconsolate girl beside him.

"_YOU WERE REBORN THROUGH FIRE AND THROUGH FIRE, YOU WILL LEARN WHY_."

Harry swallowed, expecting it couldn't be so easy to be brought back. Hermione had tears in her eyes but looked down, ashamed of what she had done. Harry just shook his head, not at her, but at the fates for putting them in this situation.

"Just say it then," Harry managed to squeak out.

Sempra's shadow came to her feet, the fires burning ever so brightly as the shadows danced along the wall. Harry watched as the flames waved back and forth, looking more like the waves of an ocean. In the middle was Sempra, standing with her arms outstretched to the ceiling of the cavern.

"_THE PHOENIX RISES AGAIN AS THE DARKNESS RETURNS…THY KINGDOM COME AND IT WILL BE DONE SHOULD THE PHOENIX FAIL TO BURN IT TO ASHES…THIS PROPHECIZED SON, THE DRAGON, AND THE LION WILL TOPPLE THE KINGDOM…BUT IT IS THE BOY WHO DIED THAT MUST SWALLOW THE DARKNESS…IT IS THE BOY WHO DIED WHO MUST CONSUME THE EVIL…IT IS THE BOY WHO DIED WHO MUST BE STRUCK BY LIGHTNING…_"

The fires died down, Sempra's shadow shrinking against the walls as she finally finished. The echoes were still playing, a melodic tone bouncing along the walls as Harry digested the words. He knew what it meant. _Another prophecy._

"No…" Hermione shook her head, trying to deny the words, "Not another one…I can't have another one…"

She stood up, a determined look on her face as she began to turn around.

"_DO NOT -"_

But Sempra never finished because as soon as Hermione turned, the fires vanished and there was nothing but a dark, empty cave, only partially illuminated by a small torch. Sempra was gone and so were the fires.

As she looked at him in confusion, Harry could only shrug, the weight already feeling heavy on his shoulders.

"Seers are the worst, aren't they?"

* * *

They found their way back easy enough and found Mavan on his knees, diligently praying like he said he would.

"We're still alive, Mavan," Harry pushed a grin on his face, trying to ignore the words Sempra had said.

"Because I have prayed for your safe return," Mavan replied.

Hermione was either too shocked or too distracted to respond with any sort of theological argument, so Harry just let it pass, packing the rest of his belongings into the backpacks they brought with them.

"Mavan, Hermione is going to do some magic to bring us back so we don't have to walk. Is that okay with you?"

Mavan looked none too happy to be participating in any sort of magic, but he also looked equally as unhappy at the prospect of making the trek back to the village. After a moment, he hesitantly nodded, allowing Hermione to take hold of his arm.

"I'll be back in a second," Hermione said in that same distracted voice of hers.

Harry nodded and watched as Hermione twirled on the spot and disappeared in a puff of smoke. It should have only taken her a few seconds to return, but when she didn't return for a minute, he told himself that she was probably just distracted and making sure Mavan was in one piece.

When she didn't return after two minutes, that's when Harry started to worry. He almost started his bad habit of pacing when Hermione suddenly reappeared in front of him, her eyes wild and dancing.

"Hermione, what took you so…"

Wordlessly, she grabbed his arm and spun on the spot and Harry felt that familiar, nauseating squeeze associated with Side-Apparation. As his feet touched ground, he wobbled, trying as hard as he could not to throw up. When he looked up, he wished he would have vomited instead.

The village was on fire, all the huts burning as Mavan scrambled around with a pail of water drawn from the untouched cement building. Hermione drew her wand and yelled, "_Augmenti!"_

Water poured from her wand, but the fires still burned and the magically created water wasn't potent enough to bring any of the fires down. Frustrated, she widened her stance and yelled out with more authority, "_AUGMENTI!"_

This time, a wall of rain came down on one hut, immediately dousing it and sending a cloud of smoke in the air as her spell managed to extinguish the deadly flames. As Hermione scrambled around, Harry did his best to help Mavan pour buckets of useless water onto the huts. They were barely making a dent and Hermione was the only one who could truly put out the fires.

As she ran around, Harry noticed a distinct lack of sound. True, he could hear Hermione's spells and the cackle of the fire, but there were no screams, no yells. He twirled around on the spot, looking desperately around and hoping he was wrong, but his feelings were confirmed.

"Hermione, where is everyone?" Harry yelled at her as she doused another hut.

"What?" She screamed in between spells and she put out fire after fire.

"The village? Where are they?"

She finally noticed what he did and Mavan stopped his efforts as well. All around them, there was no one scrambling for help or trying to escape from any of the burning huts. There was just Harry, Hermione, and Mavan. She was just as confused as he was as she stopped putting out the fires and raced around the perimeter of the village.

Mavan and Hermione were yelling out names he didn't know, so Harry looked around until he found what he was looking for. It was Auguria's hut, standing on the edge of the village and not a single lick of fire had come near it. Breaking into a sprint, Harry made for the old witch's hut, hoping he would find them all seeking shelter in there.

But there was no one inside.

Auguria was not sitting cross-legged near her small table and neither Juan nor Santana nor any of the other villagers were taking shelter in this untouched denizen. But Harry did notice that the room had been thrown around as if there were a struggle and when he leaned down to touch the sticky spot on the thatched floor, his hands drew red.

_Blood. Why is there so much blood?_

An unearthly scream shattered through his thoughts and Harry raced out of Auguria's hut towards the sound. Maybe it was some of the people. Maybe it was Hermione caught in a fire. Harry couldn't spare a thought as to what it could be and just ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

He turned the corner to one of the areas he hadn't been to yet and found Hermione on her knees and Mavan on all fours vomiting beside her. She was looking at something that the fires of a hut were blocking and it wasn't until he turned that corner that he found the source of her inhumanly yell.

A cross had been erected and at the intersection, a boy had been nailed with his hands spread wide and his feet crossed. He was already dead, judging from the pool of blood at the base of the cross and Harry stepped closer, unable to tear his eyes away.

"No…" Harry said in a deathly whisper, "Juan…"

His head was slumped down, but Harry recognized the shirt as one of the ones he always wore. His stomach turned as Harry also dropped to his knees, looking up at the fallen boy. He had seen grave and terrible things, but this…this…

He heard Hermione come to his feet beside him and stagger forward and Harry thought she was making to bring Juan down. Extending his arm and wrapping it around her waist, he pulled her back, not wanting her to go through this by herself. Hell, _he_ didn't want to go through it by himself.

"Let me go!" Hermione screamed.

"He's dead, Hermione," Harry said in a dull voice.

"No! The hut! _THAT HUT!_"

She pointed a shaky finger at the hut in question and Harry noticed that the fires burnt a little higher and the plume of smoke extended far beyond the others. It wasn't a bigger hut by any means, so why would the fires be bigger unless…

_No…they wouldn't…_

His tight grew tighter around Hermione's waist and though she struggled, she finally collapsed in tears. He wouldn't dare let her open that door. He wouldn't dare let her see all the burnt and decayed bodies inside the hut. He didn't dare let her see because he understood, better than most, the power of guilt.

_She blames herself, but really, she should be blaming me_.

He turned to Mavan and saw that the tall, powerful man was reduced to tears and vomit as he stared up at Juan.

"Mavan!" Harry coughed out through the thick smoke. "You said you were one of them. One of the cartel. Do you know where they are?"

Mavan came to the same realization that Harry did in an instant.

"I do." Mavan set his jaw in a line as he wiped the last vestiges of his lunch from his mouth.

Harry nodded, sharing a meaningful glance and turned his attentions towards consoling Hermione. Tears flooded her eyes as she tried to burrow her head in his chest. He rocked her back and forth, looking up at Juan's hanging body as he did so.

"Shhh…." Harry cooed as he rubbed her back. "We'll get them all, Hermione. I won't let any of them get away this time."

_I promise, Hermione. There will be no survivors_.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter will be Draco-centric**

**Notes and references:**

**-**_**Blood. Why is there so much blood? **_**Is a line from my short story, The Boy Who Killed. I know. It's a shameless plug.**

**-Sempra the Seer is basically the Allegory of the Cave, only far less philosophical and more intentional**

**-The exchange between Harry and Santana will not be forgotten**

**-The attackers of the village are who you think it is, but not who Harry thinks it is**

**-The prophecy is kind of what you think it means, but at the same time, it's not. Know what I mean?**

**-It is a favorite of mine when someone speaks in all caps**

**-As always, reviews are very welcome**


	9. First Contact

It took them a week, a whole damned week, before they showed up with their first lead.

And it had to be the Muggles that found it.

Xander used his reveal of the picture to wrestle control over their proposed departure. Seeing as how he held all of the information, there was nothing they could do but see if anything else showed up. Admittedly, the shock of seeing Longbottom's face had sent Draco in a temporary fit of anger, but after the fact, it didn't seem all that surprising to him.

That bastard never could leave alone.

Armed with the fact that Longbottom was alive and most likely responsible for the kidnapping of Ginny's parents, Draco started pulling every resource he could. In order to do so, he had to meet with the council of the UMW to get necessary authorization to launch a full stage "investigation" on the Legion of Light. It was an ugly task, one that Draco loathed, but it had to be done if they were ever going to tear away from Xander's infinitely long arm.

The United Muggles and Wizards operated on a small council. Instead of a General Assembly, like their cousin the United Nations, the UMW took votes from twenty countries. The wizarding population, determined by Granger during the infancy of the organization, was roughly 1% of the world's population. Though it was her wish to have all of the countries represented equally, that just wasn't the case. Instead, there was a Muggle and Wizard representative from the twenty most powerful countries.

The United States, China, Japan, the United Kingdom, Germany, France, Brazil, Italy, Canada, Russia, Spain, India, Australia, Mexico, South Korea, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and Colombia, Switzerland, and South Africa were all represented.

There were balance issues of course, the chief most being that the continent of Africa only had two countries represented. The instantaneous infighting that had begun in the Middle East and Northern Africa when magic was revealed caused high turnover in leadership for those countries. Egypt had elected eight Presidents in twelve year span, and by elected, half of them were assassinated by wizards and Muggles both. The United States had turned Afghanistan, Iraq, and then Iran into bombed out shells in retaliation for their supposed parts in Nine-Eleven.

Only Xander knew of the Death Eater's role in that plot and the price was steep to pay. Whether Draco liked it or not, their votes usually came hand in hand when it came to issues in the UMW and it was just another reason Draco thought Xander Boggarts was one of the most dangerous men he knew, regardless of his diminutive size.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked as she touched his forehead.

"I'm fine, silly woman," Draco scowled. _I hate meeting the council_.

"You just have to convince them. They take your lead in everything and once they see about…"

_Longbottom_. The words died in her throat, but Draco knew exactly what it meant. He also knew that all of the wizards in the council knew the significance of Longbottom returning. To Muggles, it might have just been a branch of magic they could refer to as necromancy, but necromancy usually came in the form of Inferi. There was nothing like this. Nothing like Longbottom.

"President Malfoy." Faron's voice carried through the door, the youthful lilt still present in it. "They're ready for you."

Ginny squeezed his hand and Draco relished it for just a moment, admiring the slightly clammy way her hand would heat up when she was nervous. Sweaty palms were a trait he didn't have, so he appreciated the strangely wet comfort. Yanking open the door, Draco swiftly strode through to the conference room, Faron and Ginny right behind him.

"Are any of them there yet?" Draco asked.

"All of them except for Spain and Colombia. I sent them all files on the request and they're prepared to hear you," Faron answered.

"Any early hints?"

"They seem receptive, but I would watch out for China and Switzerland. If China goes, the Asian bloc might split down the middle and while the Eastern European countries don't follow Switzerland, they might use them as a flimsy excuse not to vote for a unilateral movement."

"Good, Faron." Draco appreciated the boy's timeliness and effectiveness. It made for less hassle he had to worry about. "Anything else?"

"Good luck, Mister President." Faron opened the door to the darkened room, closing it just as quickly so all that was left were the dim lights of the hovering monitors.

With a wave of his wand, Draco raised all of the monitors in the air so they were arranged in an order that roughly resembled the world. It made it easier to identify who he was talking to when they were arranged like this. Even though he knew all thirty-nine by name, it could be tough to keep track during a massive conference.

To his left, the windows showed President Obama and his wizard counterpart, a man in his mid-fifties by the name of Trandle Willick. His eyes were sharp, attentive, but warm at the same time. As the Headmaster of the Salem Institute, Willick was an automatic choice to be the wizard representative of the States. All of the countries had to be represented by a Muggle and wizard counterpart and while most Muggles were the leaders of their various countries, the wizards were always someone different. The two Americans were in the windows on his left while Gordon Brown, the United Kingdom Prime Minister, was in a window right underneath them.

"Prime Minister." Draco tried hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"President Malfoy. I must applaud your efforts to wake us up at such an hour. You do know the sun hasn't even risen here?" Brown rhetorically asked.

"I'm well aware, but the matter is of the most urgent degree."

"When isn't it?" Brown wore a mocking smile.

"Call to order," Draco called out, giving the signal that the council was about to start.

"I've called an emergency meeting under sections 9a and 9b of the UMW Security Clause to request unilateral intervention in the United States. Through several contacts and leads, we believe the separatist group, The Legion of Light, will intentionally harm and inflict damage upon the civilian population and do so in such a manner that would effectively severe our growing relationship between Muggles and wizards."

Ginny had prepared the opening salvo for him and he had rehearsed it a few times before the council meeting. The objective needed to be clear and concise so that there were no questions as to Draco's intent. The hammer of evidence could wait until later.

"President Malfoy." The President of India cleared his throat. A spell was charmed on all of the floating windows which translated any other language to English so they were free to speak in their native language. Though his voice still contained an accent, it came through in perfect English. Draco waved the window closer so he could see the Indian President.

"What evidence do you have of this? I received a briefing on this Legion of Light weeks ago, but they didn't seem to be an urgent threat. At least, not so much to call a meeting under 9a and 9b."

Draco flicked his wand and brought up a picture that would scan and image itself onto his window that the other leaders could see. He watched their reactions closely, trying to gauge if there were any unsurprised faces. Thirty-nine windows were hard to scan at once, but he still couldn't find anyone that didn't act with anything but absolute shock as Neville Longbottom's picture flashed across his window.

"That is Neville Longbottom, time stamped at May 18th of this year."

"This is preposterous," said the Mexican, wizarding contact, "Dead is dead. What sort of doctoring is this?"

"This is not doctored. It has been confirmed by Xander Boggarts, Mister President. I assure you that threat is yours too as America's neighbor."

"The threat is ours?" he asked with thick, raised eyebrows, "We have our own problems to deal with. There is a witch and a Muggle gunslinger raging havoc down our coasts, hunting down drug cartels and butchering their people."

"One would think that would be a good thing," Draco said.

"It has caused massive instability in the region! Wizards and Muggles alike are in fear of _La Bruja _and _El Caballero_. I should be calling for a unilateral meeting against them, not some made up picture of a dead boy!"

"You can complain all you like, but they are coming our way. Don't think we haven't seen their path. They started towards you, but they cut through El Salvador and then Nicaragua. They are on the hunt and on their way to my country now!" The Colombian President was agitated as he leaned forward on his desk.

"President Malfoy, I respect your concerns about this Legion, but I must agree. What is a picture? He is dead, we all know this, and you should know better than to be fooled by Boggarts. You can not revive the dead," said the solemn Colombian wizard.

"I assure you of the authenticity of this photograph and our stringent belief that the Legion of Light is something that will become more troublesome as we continue," President Obama cleared his throat, immediately silencing the rest.

"With all due respect, Mister President, I believe we have a right to more information than a picture to authorize a frankly unprecedented move. You're asking us to intervene beforehand on your own soil." The South Korean wizarding representative spoke in a twang that was strange to hear in English.

"Yes and your last _intervention_ went so well…" The Turkish President snorted.

Obama ignored the jibed and pressed forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, a tenuous string holds the wizarding and Muggle worlds together right now. I think any action taken to keep that string bound together is of the utmost importance."

"Do not think we don't know about your bill, Mister President. You would ask us to move against this Legion of Light on your land while you simultaneously call for peace and cooperation between wizards. Is it not contradictory?" The Turkish President pressed.

"We are not asking for any major movements yet," Draco butted in, "We are simply gathering a task force to prepare for this growing threat. Do you not agree that with a revived Neville Longbottom, there is some teeth to this movement?"

"_If_ he is alive…" The Turkish President muttered.

"And what if he is," Draco cut in angrily, "What if he is alive and they brought him back? What message does that send? How dangerous can that be?"

"President Malfoy." The French wizard had a tired look on his face. "Why do you think Longbottom is a threat? Is he not your savior, the Boy-Who-Lived, and defeated Voldemort?"

"He is resurrected. We don't know who he is or what he's like, but the Legion is dangerous."

"Pardon," said the German president for the first time, "What has this Legion done? You have in this briefing that they have taken agents of the US government and the UMW, but is there any evidence besides their disappearance? Perhaps they have defected…much like many in the States."

The lingering afterthought of the German's proposal hung heavily and Obama's face soured at the mention of his now-legionnaire scientists. It was at this time that Trandle Willick, wizarding advisor to America, finally spoke, his voice soothing and angelic. It was a tenor timber, immediately swelling and rising over the inherent squabbling that usually accompanied these councils.

"I can assure you of their potential danger. Now, more than ever, we must show a wall of unity in the face of such a threat to the platform of peace we have provided. Twelve years ago, the world was plunged into darkness by Voldemort. Twelve years ago, a little less than half of you learned of our existence. Yet, here we are, a peaceful coalition meant to maintain this shaky foundation we have created. We can not split into petty arguments of power now. We can not decide who will profit from this though I see it in some of your eyes. Do not think that a potent force will stop in America. They will come for you, this Legion and the rest of their kind they will breed. They will come for you unless we snip them in the bud, and destroy anyone who so much as flinches in the direction of unbinding our strength. I implore you to listen and act."

That shut everyone up.

_I need his speech writer_, Draco mentally noted, hiding the grin in the darkness. Trandle Willick was just as sage and wise as Dumbledore used to be, though Draco, in all honesty, had never thought much of the old coot. Yet, he commanded the same presence and authority and Draco knew that all of the wizarding advisors would listen. It was just the matter of making sure these Muggle Presidents didn't bollocks it all up.

"I appreciate the graveness of this potential situation, but we can not act without proper pretense. You Americans have obliterated the Middle East and sent our neighboring countries into fits of revolutions and anarchy. It is already bleeding onto our sands. I am sorry, Mister President and Headmaster Willick. I can not stand with you here. I can not offer more blood." The Saudi Arabian King sighed at the end of his own speech, shaking his head at his decision.

Draco knew that he wouldn't get all of the votes, but all he needed was two-thirds. Two-thirds of the votes and he would be able to move against this Legion of Light without worry of any potential flare-ups that would draw the ire of the rest of the council. If they only knew how unhinged Longbottom was at the end. Draco had half a mind to tell them that, but was it worth breaking the UMW? Most of them saw Longbottom as a symbol of strength against Voldemort. They definitely sold that image when trying to gain public approval for this UMW. If only they knew…

"I agree." The Russian President had his hands clasped to form a pyramid with his arms and he rested his chin upon it while he looked at the window with beady eyes. "We can not move without proof, no matter what the danger."

It was a farce, Draco knew that. The Russians weren't going to vote for anything that would take any of their forces and send them halfway around the world to keep the peace in America. Still, they were part of the UMW and their presence was unfortunately required.

The Mexicans and the Colombians still looked none too happy that this supposed _Bruja _and _Caballero_ went unnoticed. Draco could only hope the Mexicans would vote for this movement, if only to safe guard their own country against this Legion.

"What are your proposed plans against this Legion?" asked the quiet Chinese wizard.

"Initial reconnaissance and attempted communication to cease and desist any actions that include the misuse of wizarding powers against Muggles. Failing that, a decisive punishment for any decree that breaks the UMW call for peace. Failing that, restriction and potential retribution against high-ranking officials of the Legion." Draco laid out the heavy-handed plan, not mincing any words or cutting any corners. They would have to know what they intended to do.

The Turkish President let out a low whistle. "Heavy punishments for a group that hasn't done anything."

"They have done something," Willick responded, "They've resurrected the dead. Does that not scare you?"

"When I see Neville Longbottom standing in front of me, then I will be scared. Now, all I see is you Americans and you British trying to drag us in to solve this problem for you. You make a mockery of this organization of _peace_ to think that I would vote for squashing your own rebellion."

_I guess he's made up in his mind_. Tired of anymore negative discussion, Draco sent a pulse through the windows, changing the border colors so it would capture everyone's attention.

"Vote."

* * *

_BANG_.

The door slammed open, disregarding the doorstopper and indenting a slight break in the wall that slightly resembled a door knob. Draco stomped inside, the grotesque side of his face twisting disturbingly. He had his wand in his hand as he paced around the room.

"They couldn't have…" Ginny trailed off as she sat on the bed, looking helplessly at her husband.

"Twenty-five votes. Two short." His words were sharp and punctual, but the snarl seen on the burnt half of his face was only a smidgen of the anger he felt inside.

"Fucking Brown voted no on it. They'll reconvene at a later date, but neither I nor Obama nor Willick can set forth another motion. It will have to be the States that have to take up arms against their own people. Shacklebolt called me to tell me to get the hell out of here before it all goes to shit."

"We can't leave! My parents! Why would they ignore Neville like that? Don't know they know how dangerous this is?" Ginny exclaimed, her voice shrill and loud.

"Some of them didn't even believe it, openly telling Obama that it was a fake or he was just using it to get forces to stop their own rebellion. We need to get proof. We need to draw fucking Longbottom out so they can _see_."

Draco stilled, caught looking at the mirror that was visible through the slightly ajar bathroom door. He still hated looking at mirrors and was repulsed by what he saw. The crisped, leathered side of his face looked raw and red, almost cracking with blood. He clenched his jaw, tearing his eyes off the mirror as he gripped his wand tighter.

_Is this how Potter felt so long ago? Did he feel any of this when he was forced to make impossible decisions?_ Then, Draco was just the executor of Potter's plans, savagely carrying them out. But there was a difference between executing a tough idea and actively making it. Draco didn't have to think when Potter asked him to kill prisoners. Now, forced to make a decision that would likely cost him the UMW, it wasn't so easy.

"Faron!" Draco barked.

Faron Chalmers immediately walked into the open door, his blue eyes calm and collected as he awaited instructions.

"Get everyone, meet in the conference room in ten minutes."

As Faron left the room to retrieve Nott, Ron, Samson, and the rest, Draco sat down in the bed besides his wife. He took his hand in her own, rubbing it thoughtfully. She waited for him to speak, knowing the moods he could sometimes get into.

"Ginny, this isn't going to be easy. I'm going to have to make decisions that seem inhumane and cruel. I'm going to ask people to die. Will you…will you…"

Ginny put a finger to his lips, shushing him and preventing an embarrassing stutter. She put a hand on the grotesque half of his face and he fought the natural urge to flinch. Delicately, almost tentatively, she placed a kiss on his lips, her soft flesh digging into him.

"Get them back, Draco. Just get my parents back."

As they entered the conference room, Draco was struck by how similar things were again. They were seated around an oval table, only this time, it was Draco leading the charge instead of Potter. Ginny sat to his left while Nott took a place to his right. Going counter-clockwise, Samson's hefty body slid into the seat next to Nott, his belly barely squeezing in. Then it followed with Hugh and Riley and Artemis in that order. Keiran was directly across from Draco while Xander and three men he didn't recognize sat to his right. Finishing the group was the other Weasley, seated next to his sister.

"Who are these three, Xander?" Draco asked, already annoyed with the American.

"The three sons of Trandle Willick. Adrian Willick, Alex Willick, and Zarad Willick."

Three sons of the famous Salem Headmaster. They were wizards, no doubt, but there was a strange disparity between Adrian, Alex and then the youngest one, Zarad. Adrian was tall, muscular and dark-haired. He had a gruff look about him, someone that was easily displeased and not easily entertained. The green eyes were almost Potter-esque in the way it shined underneath the light. Alex Willick had a more forest-shade of eyes while his hair was a dirty blonde. Draco could recognize that cocky smile from anywhere. It was one he wore when he was younger.

While the two older Willicks were tall and strong, Zarad Willick was barely taller than Ginny. He was a little thin, containing more sinewy muscle than pure brawn. His eyes were a dark green, holding none of the mirth of Alex Willick nor the intensity of Adrian Willick. He looked nervous, constantly playing with his hands as he did everything to avoid meeting his eyes.

"They are gifts from our gracious Headmaster at Salem. He acknowledges the danger of the Legion and has sent his three sons to help. All three of them are cross-trained, just as capable of wielding a gun instead of a wand. All three of them blend in with Muggles easily and can perform in any manner in which you decide to deploy them. I….must request that you take one on at all times."

"Keeping tabs on me, Xander? Don't trust me running loose in your country?" Draco raised an eyebrow as he looked over the three brothers.

"They will be of help. Only one of you have lived in America for an extended period of time and it would be a good idea to bring someone that has first-hand knowledge."

"Two of us, dolt," Ron glared angrily at Xander. Xander refused to acknowledge his existence.

"As I said, it would be helpful to have someone that is actually American besides or Mr. Washington over there."

Draco looked the three brothers over. The oldest one, Adrian, raised his chin in defiance when he met his eyes. Alex simply smiled at him when Draco looked upon him. Zarad looked down, refusing to meet his eyes while he continued playing with his hands.

_He's the one. The least dangerous_.

"Very well," Draco made a point to sound displeased. "You told me you had a lead. Where are we going?"

"Draco!" Riley cut in, "The UMW voted against any action towards…"

"I know what the damn UMW said, Riley." Sometimes, the girl was more annoyance than it was worth. What good was their American ambassador supposed to be if she tried to stop him at every point? "This will be a discrete, low-key action that won't be making any reports. Is that clear?"

A protest was on her lips, but she silenced herself when she realized no one else was saying anything else. Their implicit agreement forced her to sit down though her face was flush, matching her red hair. Continuing on, Draco waved his wand and summoned the papers that Xander had in front of him.

"Athens, Georgia? Last know location of our agent?"

Xander confirmed it. "We managed to track her movements that far when she disappeared off the grid. Not two days after, that picture of Neville Longbottom surfaced. There is some speculation to be had, but fair to say, we believe that is a key location for them."

"What are our options?"

"There are very few, unfortunately. Membership into the Legion is something that requires a multi-stage process and they only accept Muggles. One hint of any magic and they immediately reject you. The only wizards are in the upper management and they hand-pick other wizards that join."

All eyes turned towards Hugh and he laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Listen, if you think that I'll pass for one second as some religious zealot looking to join the Legion, you'd have a better chance sending Draco in there."

"So undercover is out of the question. What else can we do?" Keiran leaned forward, his sharp, brown eyes quickly reading through the reports on the hovering paper.

"A raid," Artemis suddenly croaked.

"Go on, Artemis." Draco valued the former Unspeakable's knowledge. He spoke with rarity, but when he did, everyone listened.

"Clean and quiet. You have their proposed location over here." He pointed at a paper with a map drawn on it. "Encircle them with an Anti-Apparition ward and then flush them out. Wizards will try to Apparate and fail to do so. If Longbottom is in there, we can coax him out once entry is gained."

"He's right," Keiran agreed, "It would just have to be a small team, meant to cause confusion. They could enter, fire a few spells and force all of the Muggles to come out. The wizards would sense something when they can't Apparate and be forced to come out of the building too."

"Entry is the key. How are we going to do that?" Asked the ever-sour Riley.

"We can do it," Alex Willick leaned his chair back, balancing it on two legs with a grin on his face. "We don't have the funny accents."

_Cocky and arrogant. The joys of being young_.

"This is true." Keiran gave ground. "If they can just cause enough of a ruckus to hopefully draw Longbottom out in the open, we'll have the proof we need to enforce a larger shut down of the Legion."

"And if he isn't there?" Ginny suddenly asked, a worried look on her face.

"Then we have sources," Keiran shrugged. "Sources that have mouths."

It was an ugly side of the job, but Draco agreed. In the worst case scenario, they would at least have some people that could lead back to Longbottom and any upper leadership of the Legion.

"We fly out tonight," Draco ordered.

* * *

The loud, bustling nature of New York City was nothing like the oppressive summer heat of Georgia. He was greeted with rolling hills of endless country as they landed at a small airport, away from public eyes. The air seemed brighter, more yellow than the cool blues of New York or even Washington D.C. Indeed, the sun seemed to be ready to burn them to the ground as they exited the plane and made their way to the staging ground.

All of them that were in the conference room were all that could be taken. Since the UMW had voted against any movement, any such action that could be seen as an attempt to infiltrate the Legion would immediately shut them down. Anyone that represented the U.S. government would also incite fearful flames of a revolution northwards. Obama already had his plate busy with this Wizarding Equality Act and wanted no connections going back to Washington. Thus, it was only Xander and the three Willick brothers that accompanied Draco's group.

Draco didn't like that the majority of the mission lay in the hands of the stoic Adrian Willick or the cocky Alex Willick. Yet, the rest of Draco's team was painfully British and obviously out of place. All Adrian and Alex needed to do was gain entrance. It might also help that both of them would have a chip on their shoulders.

When Xander asked Draco after the meeting which brother he would take on as his personal guard, everyone assumed it would either be Adrian or Alex. Instead, he had picked Zarad Willick.

"Me?" Zarad squeaked in a painful voice that reminded Draco of a younger Potter.

"Congratulations," Draco said sardonically, "Go to Faron to get briefed on the mission."

_Perhaps that will give incentive to the two brothers not to bollocks this up_. In truth, Draco also chose Zarad because he was the least dangerous of the brothers. He knew that they were there to keep tabs on Draco's team since Xander had other responsibilities. Zarad would likely report back to Xander at the end of the day, but Draco could control the thin boy better than the brutish Adrian or the flamboyant Alex.

Xander was prepared, as he always was, as they readied in a building that was miles away from their target. It was a warehouse that lay just outside of the college city. Aerial reconnaissance by some of those incredible satellites revealed one door that people regularly passed through and not without some sort of inspection. Alex and Adrian had already been sent ahead to connect with some of the crowd and find a way in.

Draco waited their arrival - in bound in a few minutes they were supposed to be - and watched his wife pace restlessly around the staging floor. Ginny looked constantly stressed, no doubt by the status of her missing parents, but every so often she would glance at the picture of Longbottom taped up on a floating board of evidence. She would glance at it for a few seconds before ducking her head and pacing around again. Draco didn't know if it was the fact that Neville might have had her parents that scared her or something else, but the gnaw of worry was starting to get to him as well.

"Where's Faron?" Her head suddenly snapped up, looking for Draco's assistant.

"At the lobby, keeping an eye out for the Willick brothers," Riley answered as she scrubbed out all of the paperwork that was usually needed for such a raid.

Ginny shook her head, looking more disturbed than ever as she continued her tireless pacing. Draco excused himself from Nott and Samson and walked over to her, putting what he thought would be a comforting arm around her shoulder.

Instead, she jumped, her eyes fearful as she took a step away from him. He could only raised an eyebrow, silently asking why she was so tense.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, "It just doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't?"

"Why bring Neville back? Why bring him back at all? The Death Eaters have to be involved. There's no other reason he would be back in Georgia of all places!"

"That's what we intend to find out, Ginny. Why did you want to see Faron?"

"I'm just making sure everyone's here," she hastily answered, "Don't want anyone to disappear again."

"Faron will be fine. The kid is…well, smart, I guess…"

Ginny snorted. "Don't play with me, Draco. I know you like him. He looks up to you, you know?"

"I'll make sure he gets my bad side to deter him from thinking I'm some sort of saint."

"He doesn't think you're a saint. He just knows that you're doing the right thing, even if you pretend not to care."

"I _don't_ care. The only thing I care about is finding your parents and finding out why Longbottom is back. All of that other stuff, the UMW and fostering all this bullshit peace…I never wanted that. Granger left and Shacklebolt put that on me, so I've gone on pretending, but I really don't give a damn anymore."

"You have to give a damn, Draco. It's more important than you think it is."

"Maybe, but I'm not the one for this. I can't handle all of the political nonsense. Half of them in the UMW don't give a Hippogriff's flying arse whether or not there's peace. They just want their piece of the magical pie."

She was disappointed by his pessimism, but she didn't have to deal with them in a daily and annual basis. A greedy lot, all of them, and his job was to make sure they didn't overstep and try to use magic for their own nefarious needs. He knew what men were capable of, he had seen that enough in Bates, and Gryffindor himself couldn't convince him that the Muggles were simply going to use magic to better themselves.

"They're back!" Hugh called out, interrupting his musings.

Giving Ginny one last meaningful look, Draco turned and saw the two Willick brothers entering with the youngest brother, Zarad, trailing behind them. Alex wore that same cocky grin and Draco knew he had found something.

"We talked to some of the college kids who've heard about the Legion. They've got their own thoughts, but I convinced a couple girls to tell me the rumors," Alex started, "All you need to do is approach that door and they'll let you in to see if you're…_worthy_."

"Anti-Apparition? Auto-triggers? Area-effect spells?" Keiran rattled off a list of potential defenses the Legion could have used for this warehouse.

"Definite Anti-Apparition," Adrian said in his gravely voice, "Once we get in, however, I think we can cause enough of a ruse. They have a lobby, judging by what the girl who was slobbering over Alex said."

"She wasn't slobbering, she was salivating," Alex commented, not missing a beat.

"You're going to be drooling out of your broken jaw if you don't get your shit in priority," Draco growled. "How long until we can move?"

Alex Willick only smiled at Draco, further infuriating him and sending the grotesque half of his face in temperamental twitches. "We can do it tonight. There's a big football game at their stadium that'll cover any noise that happens during the raid. I assume some of the Legion even go to the game. They love their football down here."

"Fine. Get in, break down the Anti-Apparition wards. After that, Nott, Keiran, and I will come in after you and flush out any wizards. With any luck, Longbottom will be there so we can get him squared away. Hugh, do you have those special cameras you said you could make?" Draco barked out the orders.

"Draco, you can't go in there," Riley spoke up.

"Riley…" Draco sighed again, feeling that angry rage building in the back of his head.

"Draco, if you're seen or reported in there, the UMW is going to oust you. You'll lose this Presidency, you'll lose any official reason to be over here and they'll send you back!" Riley had found her line and was staying put on it.

"I don't give a flying fuck about the UMW anymore. We're moving on this and I'm coming in on the second team."

"She's right, Malfoy." Keiran sided with the skittish Irish girl for once. "Without your leadership in the UMW, we won't be able to move against the Legion with full authorization. What if Longbottom isn't here? There will be more operations to do."

Draco gritted teeth, realizing that he was being penned and sequestered into the staging room where he would watch with Hugh's built-in cameras. Even Ginny slowly shook her head, silently agreeing with at least Keiran, if not Riley's, assessment. But Draco hated being excluded from this raid.

"O…kay…" Draco grounded out through gritted teeth, "Just Nott and Keiran then. Make sure no wizards get out of the ward."

Draco turned without a word and left the staging room. He already knew that Ginny wouldn't follow him and, frankly, he didn't want her to. The small moment of isolation would be enough to assuage the tempering flames that were threatening to break out of his body. He looked at the falling sun, glaring at its audacity to keep him out of the operation. That strong beating in his head returned, begging to be unleashed and set upon the world.

_Not right now, Draco. Not just yet_.

* * *

When Hugh came up with the idea, Draco thought it would be impossible. Cameras so tiny and immune to magical interference that all they would have to do is put it on a person's body and they would be able to watch any movements. At the time, Hugh had proposed it to use during meetings with other Presidents to see if there were any sort of reactions they could glean in retrospect.

Now, it was being used to see Alex and Adrian Willick infiltrate the Legion. Artemis had come up with the idea of encasing the small video recorder with an _Imperterbus_ spell that would block any magical interference. The next step would be to shrink and put a sticking charm so it could be easily applied to someone's clothing. After that, it was just Muggle ingenuity that would enhance the signal so they could pick it up from their staging room miles away.

Three monitors were hovering in mid-air, two showing the viewpoints of Alex and Adrian Willick while the third was another camera one of the brothers had placed so they could see the entrance of the building.

"Zarad!" Draco yelled for the other Willick, "What's the chances your brothers fuck this up?"

"Adrian and Alex?" Zarad asked incredulously. "They're not going to screw it up. They're well trained, by my father mostly, and both of them have always wanted to be involved in something like. We've all read - well I mostly - about the War of the Dark Tower and we're just…it was incredible to read…and they won't…."

Zarad fell into an incoherent babble but a withering glare from the dark side of Draco's face immediately shut the poor boy up.

"There was nothing incredible about the war, Zarad. And your brothers aren't as invincible as they think they are."

"Well Alex can get a little ahead of himself, but that doesn't mean he'll do anything to mess this up."

"Zarad, do you know why I picked you to stick with me?" Draco looked at him meaningfully as the rest of the room listened.

Zarad's eyes twitched as the rest of the room looked expectantly at him. "Because….because…my brothers are better in the field?"

"Wrong. I picked you because you're an incredibly poor liar. One more time - are your brothers going to bollocks this up?"

Zarad gulped, looking as nervous as ever and Draco swore he could see a bead of sweat roll past his dark-green eyes. "No, they're not going to."

"Let's hope they don't then."

Nott snorted as he shook his head at Zarad. "You're going to make the poor lad shit in his pants, Malfoy."

"Good. It means we're making progress then."

The feeds suddenly came to life and two images popped up in the monitors labeled Adrian and Alex.

"It's up! The feed's up!" Riley exclaimed as she, too, got involved in the operation.

"By damn, Hugh. They work," Samson awed over the display.

Hugh smiled, pleased with himself as they watched the two cameras slowly approach an iron door with a small slit on the upper half. The cameras were also designed to be incredibly difficult to find and only a series of spells that were intent on finding the smallest bit of magical signature could be used to find the tiny video recorders. Metal detectors and any other Muggle means, including a full-body physical pat down, wouldn't find it.

"What else can you make, Hugh? I've got a few toys I want to try out," Nott commented.

"All I need is someone with a wand and I can make things work."

Nott could only laugh as he continued watching. "I think I like this Muggle, Malfoy."

Draco didn't laugh or comment, only staring intently at the two screens. Alex and Adrian approached the door and said something indistinguishable to the man on the other side.

"Zarad, volume up."

Zarad pointed at the screens with his wand and the sound suddenly amplified so they could hear what was happening.

"God has showed me the way here. I have followed his path and wish to see what is on the other side," said Alex.

Samson bellowed out, his belly shaking with laughter. "The boy may have a head twice the size of his brain, but he knows how to act."

"Are there only two of you?" asked the man on the other side.

"Just me and my brother," Adrian replied.

The man said something else that they couldn't pick up, but evidently he was convinced of their authenticity. The door slid open and they were greeted by a big man that showed them in.

"We're in," Keiran said.

As they entered the premises though, the feed suddenly cut to black on both sides. The camera viewing the outside door was still working though and they could still hear the conversation and Alex's voice.

"What happened? Hugh what happened?" Draco whirled around to look at the black American.

"Magical interference, it must be," Hugh mumbled as he looked closer at the monitors. "I don't know if I can fix it from here. I'd need to get my hands on it to see if there's anything I can do, but something in that warehouse must have tripped the feed. We can still hear it though…"

"You boys aren't from around here," said the other man.

"We're from the North, but some of our friends go to school here," Alex smoothly lied.

It was maddening to Draco that he could only hear and not see. Still, it was better than nothing and the brothers would act soon to cause the distraction and then disrupt the Anti-Apparition ward from the inside.

There were two kinds of Anti-Apparition wards. One that warded from any Apparitions going in and one that warded things from going out. You could only have either, not both. The spells were inherently different and mixing the spells created anomalies and glitches in the hole of the invisible net. All one had to do to break the ward spell was to destroy it from the inside if it was one that prevented things from coming in.

It was Adrian who broke cover.

"_Abolo Casses!"_

The sound feed suddenly screeched as a commotion was heard from their side. The sounds became chaos as spells were shouted at a rapid pace while screaming could be heard in the distance. The screen was just as dark as before, but if the audio was any indication, the Willick brothers had done their job.

"Nott! Keiran! Get in there!'

Nott and Keiran twirled on the spot and they appeared just inside the front door that they could see on the camera. They rushed in as the rest of them continued to listen to the chaos developing inside.

Yet, there was something wrong.

Too many spells were being shouted and Draco listened as the spells became less distractive in nature and more offensive. He knew the cadence of that breathing and the adrenaline in their voices.

They were dueling.

"There's wizards inside," Draco said breathlessly as he picked up his wand.

"Draco, don't!" Riley cried out, placing her hand on his wrist.

He looked at her, daring her with his eyes to stop him. But she gulped and stood her ground, keeping a tight grip on his wrist.

"If you go, they will remove you from your Presidency and we'll lose any shot of taking out the whole Legion."

"She is right, Malfoy," said Xander with that same impassivity. He had been watching the feed with a blank expression as if he were watching paint dry. Xander only operated in ruthless objectivity.

The anger bubbled inside him again as he snarled and twisted the grotesque side of his face, tearing away his wrist from Riley's grasp. Hugh jumped back, his eyes wide as he watched sparks fly from the end of Draco's wand.

They waited a bit longer, but the feed from Adrian suddenly cut out and all they could hear were shouts and yells in the background along with Alex's heavy breathing.

"Adrian's alright, right?" Zarad fretted. "What happened with his feed?"

"It might have just been knocked out," Hugh tried to offer reassurance, but he, like Xander, operated too much in blank objectivity. He sounded none too confident about his theory.

"_AHHHHH!"_ The garbled yell blasted over the sound feed as Alex Willick stopped casting any spells.

Draco only waited for a few more seconds before he barked out, "FARON! Get in there and clean this mess up."

"Yes, boss." Those were the only two words out of his mouth as Faron twirled on the spot and reappeared on the camera showing the outside door. Like Nott and Keiran before him, he raced inside, already casting a spell that glowed in the darkness of the door.

They were hoping for someone to Apparate back or at least give them a signal on the camera that they had cleared the warehouse, but five agonizing minutes went on without any trace except for the distant sounds heard over the sound feed.

The cameras were still working, but the operators were down. Draco could only hope that he hadn't already sent two boys off to their death inside this warehouse. He chewed on his hand as he watched the screen, hoping it would come back to life and give him a peek inside the building. They weren't supposed to run into too much trouble. According to their information, the Legion of Light was mostly comprised of Muggles and only wizards and witches were in the upper leadership.

Suddenly, there was a movement on the camera that faced the door of the warehouse. It was a figure garbed in all white, something that the black-clad wizards who had entered were definitely not wearing. His head was ducked down and he looked around, but as he looked up, his gaze brought him straight to the camera and Draco knew they were had.

Neville Longbottom stood there with a ghost of a smile as he looked at the camera.

"Zoom," Draco ordered.

The camera zoomed in on Neville's face, confirming the lightning bolt scar on his forehead and his dark, brown eyes. There was no doubt to his existence. There was no doubt to the slight hitch of his chest as he took a breath. There was no doubt that he was alive.

And then he winked.

The feed went blank as Neville pointed at the camera, presumably destroying it.

Draco picked up his wand, his mind already made up as he started his half-turn, but Riley stopped him again, her eyes desperately pleading.

"Draco, you can't go. The UMW…."

Samson suddenly spoke, his voice sad and filled with regret. "Boy, he's baiting you. He wants you to come in there."

Draco snarled, tired of people telling him what to do. "Then he'll get his wish."

Riley let get of his arm as he Disapparated from the staging room, reappearing just in front of the door to the warehouse.

_POP_.

Someone Apparated next to him and Draco was surprised to see Zarad there, shaking but holding his wand out in front of him. He might have been smaller, not as skilled, and definitely not as handsome as his brothers, but Zarad was there.

"Is he still in there?" Zarad asked with a shaky voice.

"Nott put up an Anti-Apparition ward as they came in. They have to escape the radius before they get out. You can't destroy this kind from the inside."

_POP_.

Draco's stomach plummeted as Ginny suddenly appeared, a determined but fearful look on her face. She quickly whipped her hair into a ponytail, rolling up her sleeves as she looked at him defiantly.

"They're my parents, Draco. This place wouldn't be so heavily guarded if they weren't in there."

He wanted to tell her to leave. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn't place herself in this sort of danger. He wanted to tell her that he loved her too much to watch her follow him into this darkness.

But she was stubborn and he already knew she wouldn't listen.

"Come on, then. Slowly and look for the rest of the team."

They walked inside, Draco leading them with Zarad and Ginny on either side. Sides of spell work were splashed against the wall and they easily found Adrian, who had apparently not made it far into the building. He was sprawled on the ground, a nasty cut running along the side of his arm, but there was a pulse when Draco knelt down to touch his neck.

"Alive?" Zarad croaked in relief and Draco nodded.

"Once we find your brother, take them both back, Zarad," Draco ordered.

Zarad didn't disagree as Draco knew the boy had come mostly to make sure his brothers were alive. They went deeper into the winding hallways, making slow progress as they heard the sounds of a fight deeper into the warehouse. The walls were peppered with small holes around every corner, meshing in with the splashes of spell work.

"Guns. They were using guns," Zarad confirmed as he picked out the shell casing from a wall.

Draco pursed his lips, not happy with the Muggle resistance. It was easy enough to defeat one Muggle, but the guns shot too quickly when they were in a clustered group. One moment of reprieve from your _Protego_ or a misplaced Apparation could easily do you in.

They found Alex halfway through the hallways, slumped against a wall with his head lolling loosely to one side. Zarad rushed to him, checking his pulse and found him alive as well. He hadn't gotten away as cleanly as Adrian though and the gash and peppered holes in his left leg confirmed a serious gunshot wound.

"Take them, Zarad, and get out of here. Tell Xander that the raid has gone bad and we might need reinforcements," Draco ordered.

Zarad levitated his brother and started back towards the hallways but turned around with a hint of hesitancy. "Sir, are you sure…"

"Go, Zarad. We can take it from here."

Zarad vanished around the corner without another word.

The light played havoc with his eyes as they swung wildly above them. The sounds were becoming louder, more distinct. A loud cry rang sharply and froze their steps but the sounds continued. Draco broke into a trot, wishing he would see some sign of Nott or Keiran, but they were still unable to be found.

The hallway ended with a door that was blown off the hinges and even from a distance, Draco could see that it lead to a larger atrium. It must have been the heart of the warehouse, whatever it contained, and most likely, Neville inside it. Making sure to keep Ginny shielded behind him, Draco advanced, carefully leaving the close confines of the hallway and trading it for the large expanse of the main floor.

"Draco and Ginny Malfoy! Beauty and the best indeed!"

In a fashion that was far too dramatic for even Draco's liking, the lights came on overhead and Draco had to shield his eyes from their brightness. He fired an errant spell, not knowing if it would hit a target. A laugh ran throughout the large warehouse as Draco finally spotted Neville in the center.

Nott and Keiran were kneeling in front of him, blood and scars on there faces and no wands in sight. Neville was behind them, hands clasped behind his back and still clad in those white robes.

"Can you care to explain to the _Lord's_ people of the Legion why you have come here and torn apart their home? Why you've sent these sinners into our midst to kill us?" Neville mockingly asked.

It was only then that Draco realized they were surrounded by Muggles with guns in their hands, all pointed at them from each and every direction. He felt Ginny tuck in closer behind them as they held their wands out, trying to gauge their chances of survival.

"Can't Apparate now, can we? That ward makes it difficult, but I suppose I have you to thank for that." Neville was looking at them with an air of confidence that Draco had never seen when the boy was previously alive. He was different, not in his mannerisms or his experience, but in his composure.

This Longbottom knew no fear.

"You know I didn't go to your funeral, Longbottom. I always knew you were demented," Draco said.

"I have sinned, who hasn't?" Neville said with that same playful lilt. "I am not Neville Longbottom now. I am God's chosen and serve him above. My disciples here are unhappy with your presence in their denizen. Can you explain…Malfoy? Can you explain why The Fiend has come?"

He used Draco's moniker innocently, playing the crowd and their belief that he was some sort of devil. Draco knew that he looked the part, his face deformed and scarred. What was Longbottom's end game here? Why was he waiting?

_Faron! Where's Faron?_

The blonde boy obviously wasn't in front of Longbottom, but he was here…somewhere….hopefully alive. Did they miss him as they entered the warehouse? Draco wasn't sure. The hallways branched off and they just followed the signs of action, but it was conceivable Faron was somewhere else. Still, he clung onto that hope. They just need a small window.

"Come now, Draco. Tell us so we can begin God's judgment on these sinners in front of me."

Draco could only snicker, faking bravado. "Do they know…Longbottom? Do they know what a fraud you are?"

Neville's smile only widened as Draco tried to goad the crowd. "They've seen my benevolence, Malfoy. They know I'm no fraud."

"Neville!" Ginny called out, but Draco still shielded her. "I know you're not like this. My parents…please…"

Neville tutted disappointingly. "Ginny, I would have thought better than you than to marry The Fiend. Did you feel so sorry for him that you just couldn't leave his disfigured face?"

Neville was about to speak again when a sudden low hum overtook the warehouse. The fans overhead suddenly came to life, spinning quickly to cool down the warehouse. Yet, there was something falling from the ceiling, something dark.

The fans only aided in their descent and it was only when it hit the ground that Draco realized it was Peruvian Instant Darkness. He could hear the shouts and yells as gunshots suddenly rang off in the panic. The warehouse was shrouded in this darkness, but Draco looked up, fighting off the quickly obscuring vision.

Faron was in the rafters, pouring the power from a small bag. Draco watched as he tossed the rest of the bag in the air and started taking aim at the people down below. Advantaged with the high ground, Faron rained down spells from what he could see, sending the gun-toting Muggles into a frenzied panic.

"Stay down," Draco ordered Ginny as bullets scattered haphazardly around them.

"Where are you going?"

Draco raced forward, ignoring the bullets and the powder that was so thick it shrouded him in darkness. He knew which direction Longbottom was. As he sprinted, he suddenly bowled over a massive form. As he untangled his legs from it, he realized it was Nott.

"Watch it, you twit! Get me untied from here. Longbottom's gone nutters," Nott growled as he struggled with his bonds.

Draco cut them easily with a spell but ducked as an orange beam flew his way. He brought up a shield to deflect another curse as he saw the white robes of Longbottom even in the power of darkness.

_There's the bastard_.

That anger that had been building in the back of his head, the monster that surfaced when Draco lost control suddenly took over as Draco unleashed a bevy of spells in Longbottom's direction.

_Slash. Up. Down. Curse. CRUCIO!_

He didn't know where the spell came from, but he felt possessed by the anger and the craziness. Had he been fully cognizant, he would have realized that Neville had deflected the spells easily, waving and blocking with just his hands. In his blind rage, however, Draco pushed forward until he could see Longbottom through the powder.

"Just stay dead, you bastard!" Draco shouted.

"Not today, Draco. Not this time."

Draco closed in on him, furiously pounding him with curse after curse, but Neville was undeterred and when Draco was close enough, Neville parried and reached out with his arm. Draco could see a golden flash of light, even in the darkness, before Neville's hand reached out and clenched his throat, squeezing it tightly.

His feet came off the ground as Draco struggled to let free, but the lack of oxygen was already affecting him. He punched Neville's arm as his wand had fallen at some point. Neville held tight, concrete determination in every line of his face as he squeezed the life out of Draco.

_So strong….he's so strong…_

"You always thought little of me, haven't you?" Neville rhetorically asked as he squeezed tighter. "What do you think now? What do you think of _me_ now?"

"_STUPEFY_!"

Whoever cast the curse must have caused enough of a distraction for Neville to drop him, but the damage had already been done. Draco could feel his brain shutting down from the lack of oxygen and he could only hope that he wasn't dying. People didn't die when they were released, did they?

Through blurred and obscured vision, Draco looked up at Neville to see the golden hand that was choking him. Longbottom was cursing into the distance, shooting a spell _from_ his hand. The Stupefy had apparently missed him and Draco fleetingly remembered how the spell used to bend around him. Did it do it now?

Chaos reigned around him as spells and gunshots filled the airwaves. He was distinctly aware of a loud crash and something crumbling to the ground, but his brain was already turning itself off for protection. As he passed out to the vision of Longbottom performing spell after spell with his hand, he could only think of one thing.

_So strong…he's so strong!_

* * *

**A/N: There will be a slight delay in the next update. It probably won't be for another two weeks as I'll be traveling.**

**The next chapter is…other-centric. It's a new POV and I think you readers will be very pleased with the chapter. Any guesses as to who it will be?**

**Notes and references:**

**- **_**Abolo Casses**_** literally means "destroy net"**

**-Athens, Georgia is home to the University of Georgia**

**-Draco's decision will come back to haunt him**

**-The wizarding population being less than 1% of the total population is something that I think is accurate. Of all the kids in Britain, roughly 40 kids were chosen for Hogwarts. There's perhaps a few more that didn't go to Hogwarts for that class year for whatever reason, but there's still not a lot of wizards in the world in comparison**

**-**_**La Bruja and El Caballero **_**mean The Witch and The Knight. You'll find out why Harry is called The Knight in a few chapters**

**-This chapter takes place during the previous chapter**

**-As always, reviews are welcome**


	10. Edric Trepot

"Hey Four-Eyes!"

The three thugs were picking on the depressingly thin boy in glasses again. Already, they had him cornered in an alley that was conveniently shielded from any wandering teachers. The speckle-eyed boy whirled around, fear evident in his bright eyes as three bigger boys approached him with feral grins.

"Guys, please," the little boy pleaded.

It was a habitual event, always marked by the boredom and poor parenting of the three larger boys. Puberty had reached them early and they were thickly built. In contrast, the little boy was scrawny and constantly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was their favorite target.

"What's wrong, _freak_?" One of the boys taunted.

"I'm not a freak!" The little boy yelled but the tremble on his bottom lip refused to hide his fear.

Then came the inevitable shove, sending the little boy sprawling with his backpack being the only protection against the granite sidewalk. He held his glasses on his face as he scampered backwards, unwittingly burying himself in a deeper hole. The three older boys loomed over him, malicious grins on their faces as they closed in.

"Please…." The little boy whimpered.

One of the older boys kicked him in the leg, sending a searing pain throughout his calf. The little boy cried out in pain, but his voice was too little and too weak and he refused to call out for help. Another one of the older boys prepared to kick him again, but his foot was suddenly yanked backwards, pulling him off his feet.

"OW!" yelled the older boy.

His two friends hollered in laughter at the sight of the collapsed preteen. They pointed at him and were doubled over, holding their stomachs.

"It's not funny!" The tripped boy yelled at them.

The little boy with the glasses tried to scamper away, but one of them caught the little boy by his backpack and yanked him backwards, whip lashing him into the ground. They laughed again as the little boy struggled to get to his feet. But they weren't laughing when a pebble shot off the ground and pelted another one of them in the face.

"OW! Who threw that?" The stung boy whirled around, finding no one. He rounded on the tiny boy with the glasses. "You're going to pay for throwing that at me…"

"I didn't throw it!" The little boy protested weakly.

There was anger written all over the tallest boy's faces now, the welt where the rock hit him painfully red. He reared back his hand to punch the little boy with the glasses except his hand about faced and smacked his own head instead.

Another rock flew from the invisible reaches and hit the trio of kids all over their bodies. One's jacket suddenly came alive and entangled the older child, whirling him over and over until he tumbled to the ground in a state of dizziness. The other preteen kept trying to run but his feet would give out from under him, sending him sprawling in an awkward tangle of limbs.

"You fucking freak! You're a wizard, I knew you were a wizard!" One of the boys yelled as he sprinted away and the hallway was quiet again, save for the heavy breathing of the little boy with the glasses.

"But I'm not a wizard…" The little boy whispered to himself.

"They don't have to know that though," said a voice from the darkness.

He stepped out from the shadows, a little taller and a year older than the little boy with the glasses. He had dark hair, tangled and messy with a slightly light complexion. It was unlike the pallor of the rest of his classmates and it was just another sign that he didn't belong. His eyes were also the most vivid shade of green anyone had ever encountered.

"Edric!" The little boy's eyes widened behind his spectacles. "What are you doing here? If they see you here with me, they'll start picking on you too!"

Edric shrugged nonchalantly. "I doubt they're going to pick on you much more if they think you're a wizard."

"But I'm not weird like that. If they think I'm a wizard, they're going to pick on me even more. They _hate_ wizards." The little boy picked himself off the ground finally, dusting his shorts and shirt but missing spots completely.

"They don't hate wizards…well, they might. They're mostly _afraid_ of wizards. So if they think you're a wizard, they're going to think that you were the ones throwing pebbles from nowhere and making themselves trip all over each other," Edric explained as he dusted off spots of dirt from the little kid's shoulders. "They'll fear you and even though they'll want to attack you, all you have to do is whisper something silly and they'll jump straight out of their pants trying to get away from you. Is it really the worst thing in the world if they think you're a wizard?"

The little boy frowned as Edric continued patting him down so the dirt would come out of his shirt. He pushed his glasses up his nose again and replied, "Well, I guess not. Plus…and don't tell anyone this…but I think wizards are cool."

"I think they are too. Especially when they can throw around the pebbles and make people hit themselves."

"Yeah, that was cool! But…I don't understand. Who was actually doing that? It wasn't….it wasn't you was it, Edric?"

The little boy whirled around as he came to his conclusion but found that Edric had vanished from sight. He did a three-sixty on the spot, spinning in a giant circle but Edric was gone, not a trace of him to be seen anywhere.

The little boy pushed his glasses up his nose as they slipped and smiled to himself.

"Cool."

* * *

Edric walked to his home, turning a corner and cutting through Mrs. Thornberry's bushes and avoiding her giant dog. He was whistling an unknown tune to himself as he replayed the scene in his head, the three bullies in various comical states of confusion as Edric cast charms on them from the shadows. In truth, he had partially known they were going to pick on poor, little Peter. But he couldn't very well preemptively stop them from bullying Peter. He had to see the act first before he intervened and even then, he would continue to let them believe that it was Peter who was the wizard.

_And no one knows, just how it should be_. Never mind the trace of bitterness in that thought.

He emerged into the cul-de-sac and spotted the house that sat at the top of the circle. It was a two-story house, and similar to all of the other houses in the Colorado suburb except for a variant room or two. Edric hopped in front of the door and rummaged through his backpack for the keys when the door suddenly opened, revealing a grey-haired man who had a look that said, "I worry."

"Edric…"

"Hi, Uncle John!" Edric smiled brightly at him and entered the doorway, trying to shoulder his way past him up the stairs and towards his room, but Uncle John caught him and stopped Edric before he could get there.

"Your wand."

_Drat. I suppose it would be too much to ask to get to my Invisibility Cloak._

Edric patiently sighed, knowing that he should at least look ashamed. Truthfully, he was just annoyed that he was caught…again.

Uncle John shook his head as Edric handed over the wand. "Edric, do you know why we gave you this wand? It's only…"

"…to be used in emergencies. I _know_, Uncle John."

"You can't take it to school. If anyone saw you and figured out that…"

"…I'm a wizard? The shock that it would be."

Uncle John pursed his lips, keeping a steady gaze on the young boy. "You've been hanging out with Uncle Tobias too much."

The littlest smirk rose on one side of Edric's lips but he disguised it. Uncle John usually liked to see humility when he was giving a lecture.

"No one saw and no one will ever know that I'm a wizard. Trust me, I'm good at hiding it by now."

"Edric, you know we only did this for your…"

"…protection. Yes, I _know_, Uncle."

With that, Edric retreated to his room, leaving his Uncle John frustrated and running his hands through his always thinning hair. Edric knew that Uncle John was just a worrywart of giant magnitude but he couldn't help but be a little petulant at times. After all, he was twelve. It was to be expected that he would be moody and sullen at times. Yet, Edric wasn't moody, just disappointed he wouldn't be able to use his wand until the next time he pinched it from the drawer they thought they could lock.

He flopped onto his bed, blowing a strand of his messy hair out of his eyes. The fan spun above him, a paper plane attached on a string at the end of one of the blades whirling around in a fastidious circle. Looking at the closed door, Edric held out his hand and locked it silently.

Edric didn't _think_ that Uncle John and Uncle Tobias knew about his wandless magic, but he never knew with those two. There was so much secrecy from their obvious displacement to America to the identity of his parents. He learned when they lied at an early age and after a while, they had given up trying to lie to him. They simply didn't tell him anymore when he asked.

The door didn't budge when Uncle John predictably tried to open it and for a moment, Edric almost unlocked it from his bed. He stopped himself as his hand was extended, opting to get off the bed and unlock the door by hand. Uncle John stood there, an apologetic expression on his worn and lined face.

"Listen, Edric, I'm sorry. I know it's tough on you sometimes, but this is for the best."

"It's for the best that I didn't go to Salem like all of the other wizards? It's for the best that we moved out west after you gave your letter that I wasn't attending? There's a lot of things that you and Uncle Tobias think are _best for me_."

Edric thought that Uncle John would frown and lecture him like he usually did, but to his surprise, Uncle John smiled and looked at him with what Edric could only perceive as pride.

"Do you want to hear about your parents?" Uncle John asked.

Edric narrowed his eyes at him with suspicion. "Is this a trap? This sounds like a trap. You never tell me about my parents."

"You're growing older, Edric. Soon enough, neither I nor Tobias will be able to stop you from learning everything you want. Tobias won't be happy but I think its good that you know a little more about your parents."

"Since when is Uncle Tobias ever happy?" Edric asked with a wry smile.

"It's been a long time since Uncle Tobias has had something to smile about. But I think we did a good job with you."

Uncle John walked over to the bed and sat down, looking up at the paper plane that was whizzing above him. Edric patiently stood up, looking expectantly at Uncle John. For years, Uncle John and Uncle Tobias had avoided any mention of his parents. Even when Edric specifically asked, they either refused to answer or simply said it was too painful to retell. Still, it was about time he got some answers.

"You obviously know we're not from America."

"Was it that accent? I don't think it was the accent."

"Again…too much time with Uncle Tobias."

"Sorry, go on."

"As I was saying, we're obviously from England. I'm sure you've done your research and know that the prominent wizarding school in England is…"

"…Hogwarts. Yes, I've read that."

"Do your teachers know about your bad habit of interrupting people?"

"Every one of them."

Uncle John chuckled as he played with a loose string from the comforter. Edric could tell it was difficult for his Uncle to talk about his parents so he didn't press or push. Through his managed isolation, Edric had gotten good at reading people in his own way and knew when and when not to give them a nudge. Uncle John would have to do this his way or else Edric would learn nothing new at all.

"Your parents were…incredible people. I know that you know you're smart and frankly, you got that from your mother, but your father was no slouch either. Definitely no slouch. But after the war, things were confusing. We didn't know how Muggles would feel about the exposure to our world, so Uncle John and Uncle Tobias made the decision to move away. We had to take you somewhere that would be far enough away from home, but somewhere where you could learn and grow up to be as great of a man as we both knew you were."

"That's a fancy way of saying you wanted to leave home," Edric said softly.

"Always smart for your age," Uncle John chuckled, "When you were six, you were already speeding through books bigger than your head. So much like your mother, but it's your father…it's your father I see in you."

"Can you…can you tell me about them?"

"I wish I could." Uncle John had a sincerely pained expression on his face. "I know we said that it would be too painful for you to hear about your parents, but honestly, it's probably just too painful for me."

_Too painful for me, not too painful for us. Something to take note of_.

"I just want you to know, Edric. Your parents were incredible and _good_ people. Above all, they believed in the best of everyone. You need to know that, Edric. They were _good_ people."

"But they're dead now? These good people are dead, right?"

Uncle John sighed and ducked his head. "And the rest of the world will rue it all for it."

_Ducking his head is inconclusive. He lies and tells the truth when he does that_.

"How'd they die?"

"How did anyone die back then? The war took them."

"So they fought The War of the Dark Tower? They fought against Voldemort?"

"We were all fighting against him then. You're lucky to grow up in such times, Edric. You're lucky to grow up without the threat of death hanging over your head every day. I know this might be heavy stuff for you to hear, but you need to know how lucky you are."

"It's not too heavy," Edric countered, "I read about death all the time. It happens everywhere in the news, especially in the Middle East."

"A thirsty mind will go looking for knowledge as they say. Where do you read these things by the way?"

"The internet," Edric succinctly answered, "Don't change the subject. My parents."

Uncle John smiled again, chuckling to himself like he had heard some inside joke. "Just like your mother. They fought against Voldemort and they gave their lives to make sure that your life would be better. So that you wouldn't have to fear the world."

"If they wanted me not to fear the world, why am I hiding the fact that I'm a wizard?" Edric willed his voice not to break but the question was too open and too naked for him. He so _desperately_ wanted to go to Salem and join the rest of the witches and wizards on the Eastern coast of America. He thought that when they moved to Colorado, they would at least enroll him to Aspen Academy, but instead he was at Ellingway Middle School with little Peter and the three bullies.

"Edric," Uncle John leaned forward with pleading eyes. "There are so many things I wish I could tell you. I wish more than _anything_ that you could just be a normal wizard, but that's not the path that's been laid out for you."

"Do I have say in this path? Do I have a say in where I go?" Edric felt the tears stinging his eyes and berated himself for being a pathetic twelve-year old.

"Edric, please…" Uncle John lifted a hand out, but Edric flinched backwards, bumping into a solid mass.

"You're special, Edric. Oh, so very special and if you just knew…"

But Edric didn't want to hear anymore. It hurt to hear and it hurt Edric to see Uncle John so pained. He looked at the paper plane whizzing about along the ceiling and wiped the stupid tears off his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I'd like to be alone, Uncle John," Edric said in a mechanical voice.

Uncle John opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. He stood up slowly, trying to give Edric time to take back his dismissal, but Edric stood in statuesque stillness. As Uncle John left, he briefly laid a hand on Edric's shoulder and it was all it took for Edric not to cry out for help and to apologize. But he couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Edric."

* * *

If Uncle Tobias knew about the rather dramatic conversation he had with Uncle John, he didn't say anything about it as he drove him to school. Uncle Tobias was as taciturn as always, sullenly looking out and silently cursing every single driver in his way. Whereas Uncle John was normally friendly and amicable when he wasn't worrying, Uncle Tobias was constantly on the verge of belittling someone. Edric wasn't entirely sure what Uncle Tobias did for a living, but it was something that made a substantial amount of money seeing as Uncle John only worked once a month for a week.

Edric chanced a look over and saw Uncle Tobias' hooked nose and greasy hair and for the umpteenth time, Edric bit back a joke on the benefits of shampoo. It was as if Uncle Tobias read his mind when he looked over at Edric with a chance glare. Edric couldn't help but smile to himself though. It was easy to wind Uncle Tobias up.

"Your grades?" It was a question but out of Uncle Tobias' mouth, it was more of a command.

"Top of the class as always."

There was silence except for the soft click of the turn arrow as Uncle Tobias switched lanes. The school was only fifteen minutes from their house, but Uncle Tobias liked to drive him in the morning traffic. Personally, Edric thought it was just to make sure he kept attending.

"Uncle John tells me that you took your wand to school again."

"It happened into my bag."

"Next time it happens into your bag, you'll just happen to be in your room for the weekend."

"Understood."

Uncle Tobias mentioned nothing of his parents or Uncle John's tearful admittance and Edric didn't want to bring it up that morning, so he was content with enjoying the rest of the ride in silence. Whilst other parents or guardians would kiss their child good-bye or at least tell them to have a good day and stay out of trouble, Uncle Tobias merely unlocked the door and said, "I'm picking you up today."

"Yes, Uncle," Edric murmured under his breath as he watched a mom kiss a little girl on the forehead as she got out of the car.

Uncle Tobias sped off, not sparing a glance back though Edric wouldn't have known it because he too didn't look back. The first class, and it was called a class just by name, was the intrepid homeroom. Edric wondered what genius had thought up of gathering all of the kids into one class in the beginning of the day only to jettison them out after fifteen minutes. What was the point?

Edric easily shifted into his next class, Algebra I, and took a seat in the front row, bringing out a notebook, a pen, and a pencil in one practiced motion. The little girl whose mother had kissed her on the forehead sat behind him as she always did and Edric waited for the three students that were always late to class.

The tallest one still had a welt on his face from where the pebble hit him, but the arrogant smirk had returned as always. His two cronies flanked him on either side as they entered the room, but they were on their best behavior in front of the teacher. Nonetheless, they _accidentally_ bumped into the girl's table behind Edric.

The three bullies snickered to themselves and Edric kept a practiced face as he noted just how tall the oldest bully was. He didn't have his wand at the moment, but he still had the cloak. It was supposed to only be used in emergencies though what emergency in which Edric would have to completely hide, he did not know. Wondering if teaching people a lesson was considered an emergency, Edric reached into his backpack to feel the comforting, smooth texture of the rare Invisibility Cloak.

_Maybe later_, Edric thought as the teacher, Mrs. Stonebright, entered the room.

She began the lesson, more drivel about inequalities, and Edric's mind wandered as he had already taken the quiz and done all of the homework for this chapter and the three chapters ahead of it. It came easily to him once he read it and Uncle Tobias worked him hard when it came to achieving success.

After Uncle John had left and Edric's emotions had calmed, he had begun thinking of ways he could find the identity of his parents. Uncle John had given him a lot to work with. He was twelve years old so at the youngest, his mother had to be eighteen at the time of his birth. Seeing as how they had fought against Voldemort in the War of the Dark Tower, that would have placed them in the class of ninety-five. The problem was that there was no way for Edric to find a database of all the graduates of Hogwarts. The internet, even with its vast resources and information, was still a primarily Muggle database. True, there was progress since the exposure of magical society, but Hogwarts had so far been able to keep privy to their information.

Nor was there an official list of deaths during the War of the Dark Tower. Seeing as how the greater parts of England were a total mess during those times, it was still inconclusive and ambiguous to figure out who had died and who had simply changed their identity, especially when it came to wizards. Still, there were things Edric had read about the war and pictures he had seen. It was in one of the pictures that Edric started formulating a theory and Uncle John had done nothing but prove its worthiness when he talked about Edric's parents.

Edric's musings were interrupted as Mrs. Stonebridge called on him.

"Edric Trepot. Can you explain how I got this answer?" She looked at him expectantly, trying to catch him off-guard.

"You insert the points and find the slope. The slope is -1."

She frowned at his quick answer, obviously thinking she had caught him unawares but Edric could do these equations and graphs in his sleep. Frankly, he had much more pressing things to worry about than the expectations of Mrs. Stonebridge.

"Edric, I know you're probably bored, but do and try to pay attention."

Edric feigned humility again as he ducked his head and nodded slowly. Apparently, Mrs. Stonebridge was satisfied by this showing and turned her back to draw on the chalkboard once more. She went over to her desk and procured the quiz for the day and proceeded to hand it out.

There was a snicker from the back of the classroom that Edric tried to ignore, but the annoying gnat just wouldn't let him be.

"Pssst…Trepot. What kind of fag name is that? Did your two uncles come up with it?" It was the tallest bully, come back for more.

"My uncles aren't gay, Olly."

"Sure they're not. That's why they live together. You gay too, Trepot?"

"Yes, Olly. I'm gay for you, actually."

The girl behind Edric snickered at this comment, causing Olly to burn bright red. A few other kids had heard it and though they feared Olly as much as anyone, they couldn't help but either giggle or smile at Edric's comment.

"You think you're funny, Trepot. We'll see whose funny later," Olly warned.

_I'm counting on it_. There were still a few tricks Edric could do even without his wand.

"Is there a problem?" Mrs. Stonebridge stood up from behind her desk and cast a critical eye towards their direction.

"It was nothing, Mrs. Stonebridge," Olly said before Edric could speak, "It was just that I was telling Edric that he shouldn't be taking answers from Amy."

The girl behind Edric squeaked indignantly and even Edric himself was caught unawares by Olly's blatant lie. Still, there was very little Edric could do at this point. Unfortunately, Olly was the principal's son, so Edric couldn't very well tell the truth and say Olly was lying. The principal would do nothing and Mrs. Stonebridge wouldn't want to lose her job over something like that. Instead, it would be easier to blame Amy.

"Is this true, Amy? Are you giving answers to Edric?" Mrs. Stonebridge now had her hands on her hips, the universal sign for, "Don't lie to me."

"No!" Amy squeaked about before she could stop herself, the blush along her face clashing horribly against her blond hair.

Mrs. Stonebridge rounded on Edric and in that split second, Edric made a quick choice that he perceived as the best possible outcome for the situation given the restrictions.

"I did it. Amy didn't know I was trying to cheat off her paper."

Edric could hear Amy give a little gasp but said nothing to contradict his story. He was a little disappointed. He had half-expected her to at least stand up for him but he had learned at an early age that people usually erred on the side of self-preservation when it came down to it. Amy, though nice and very pretty, was no different.

"I'll need to speak to you after class, Edric," Mrs. Stonebridge said in what she hoped to be a grave voice. To Edric, it just sounded funny.

And so a call to the principal and a subsequent call to Uncle John later, Edric was given two reprimands and put on probation by the principal. In truth, Edric knew that he was likely to get into little trouble besides the petty penalties handed down to him by this overbearing principal and the towing-the-line Mrs. Stonebridge. Edric knew that Uncle John knew that he was too smart to cheat off someone on a simple quiz. Yet, Uncle John could do nothing because causing a scene would lead to more investigations on the matter and someone might find out that Edric Trepot might be a little more than just another seventh grader.

Still, Uncle John had given him the silent treatment on the way home after early dismissal and suspension. Edric midlly preferred it but wished Uncle John would stop being such a worrywart. It was just a penalty in name and nothing would be affected, least of all Edric's grades. Even if he lost some points, he would gain it all back and neither Uncle John nor Uncle Tobias would have to worry. But it was a surprise when Mrs. Stonebridge showed up at the door to their house in the middle of a rather stony and silent dinner.

"Excuse me, Tobias Cambridge? John Oxford? May I have a word with you? I'm Edric's math teacher," Mrs. Stonebridge smiled in her polite way.

"Of course," Uncle Tobias drawled, but the little movement behind his back was apparently enough for Uncle John to slip on his wand holster.

Edric wanted to tell them that Mrs. Stonebridge was about as dangerous as a gadfly, but that would ruin any potential magic they would have to do. So he kept his mouth shut.

"I think it's best that Edric be…out of the room for this discussion."

Edric took the hint and went to his bedroom, quietly marching up the stairs as he did. He closed the door under the watchful eye of Uncle John and waited five minutes as he heard the muffled voices from downstairs. Taking his Invisbility Cloak as an extra precaution, Edric concentrated as hard as he could on the talented he prided himself on the most.

_POP_.

It was a little pop and Edric doubted they could hear it from downstairs, but he expertly Apparated to the cupboard under the stairs where he could hear the entire conversation. The Invisibility Cloak was only there as a measure for Mrs. Stonebridge as Uncle John or Uncle Tobias would immediately know if it was him.

"I'm just concerned about Edric's social wellbeing. He's smart, almost genius, but he has no friends that I can see! He studies and reads and disappears by himself all the time. I just don't think it's healthy Mr. Cambridge. I don't know if anyone's mentioned this to you before, but I think Edric is developing antisocial tendencies."

"Edric is not anti-social!" protested Uncle John. "He's just smart and prefers his studies."

"I know he didn't cheat," revealed Mrs. Stonebridge, something that caught Edric off-guard. "He's too smart to even bother with cheating. But I know that he provokes Olly, the principal's rather…care-free son…"

"The bully, you mean? Edric's told us plenty about him," Uncle John intoned with some sarcasm.

"And you don't think this is troublesome? He readily accepts the blame. He provokes Olly with just a few words and embarrasses him constantly. He's _goading _Olly. I'm just…has Edric ever exhibited….well, you know….violent or disturbed tendencies."

"_Violent or disturbed_!" cried Uncle John but Uncle Tobias suddenly caught in.

"I can assure you that if Edric decided to accept the blame, it was because he deemed it to be the correct course of action. Certainly, you did nothing to assuage him of any punishment even though you readily admit that you knew he was not the perpetrator of this false crime," Uncle Tobias said icily.

"Well, that's not the point! The point is I'm worried about Edric and…." Mrs. Stonebridge stuttered.

"The point is that if he is _provoking_ Olly, he is doing so because someone needs to stand up to this so called bully. I assure you that Edric is neither dangerous nor would he cause any permanent harm to this Olly."

"_Permanent _harm? These are kids, Mr. Cambridge!"

"They are only kids now, Mrs. Stonebridge. Edric is a bright boy, too bright for the likes of the rest of your seventh grade students. He is perfectly adjusted and while I appreciate your concern for his well-being, I find this to be self-serving. If you wanted to assuage your guilt of punishing a child for a rule he did not break, there are a good number of psychologists I could recommend."

"Why I…I never would…I…."

And that was all for Mrs. Stonebridge.

She left with a punctuated slam of the door, mumbling something about the ridiculousness of Oxford and Cambridge. Edric could hear the kickback of her car as she departed and waited until Uncle John or Uncle Tobias would start up the stairs to Apparate back to his room. But neither of them made a move from what Edric could hear. Instead, Uncle John spoke.

"She has a point, you know. How long are we going to continue isolating him?"

"Isolation has its merits. He's less likely to be noticed and he's also less likely to make attachments that might cloud his judgment."

"Cloud his judgment? Need I remind you that he's only _twelve_. I'm tired of holding things back from, Severus. He is a boy, a lonely boy that knows nothing about his parents. We've dragged him all over the place and stuck him in school after school and he's succeeded at his studies and you already know he's a powerful wizard. How much longer can we keep him here?"

_Severus? Is that Uncle Tobias' middle name?_

"We have our duty, as I do not want to remind you of, and Edric has progressed far better than his father at this age."

"_Progress_?! He's not some sort of experiment, Severus! He needs friends. He needs people to love. He needs someone to hold on to that isn't me or you."

"Remus, for the last time, he is how he is for a reason. You and I both know that this détente will not last forever. People will need someone to look up to and given the heritage, I think there's a chance he might even lose all of his father's foolishness."

_Remus?_

"He is twelve!"

"He is only twelve _now_," Uncle Tobias, or Severus or whatever name he had, stressed.

"We can't do this to him. We can't…train to him be like this. He needs to have a say!"

"Then let's ask him."

The cupboard door suddenly swung open and Edric was too slow to lift the Invisibility Cloak to cover himself. Uncle Tobias' dark eyes peered inside and with just a slight raise of his eyebrows, he said to come out. Edric crawled out of the cupboard beneath the stairs with as much dignity as he could, rearing up to his full height of five foot and one inch to look at them as best as he could.

"Would you like to say something, Edric?" Uncle Tobias drawled as he looked at Uncle John expectantly.

"No," Edric quietly whispered, "but I would like to show you something."

Without saying anything else, Edric raised his wand in the air and suddenly scribbled his name in a harsh, orange letters. He missed the shock on Lupin's face as he did so. As he spelled out his name, Edric Trepot, he waved his wand and suddenly the letters of his last name jumped around to a different place. While his first name was untouched, his last name was distinctly different.

Edric Potter.

Edric paid attention to their reactions. Uncle Tobias had a look of grim satisfaction, seemingly pleased with the display but disgruntled that Edric had found out so quickly. Uncle John looked awed, amazed, and terrified at the same time.

"Did I get it right?"

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter is Hermione-centric**

**Notes and references:**

**-Edric will have a growing role as this story progresses**

**-It's all in the eyes**

**-This chapter occurred roughly before Draco's team tried to infiltrate the Legion's hideout**

**-As always, reviews are welcome**


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